Imperial Warlord
by deeed22
Summary: A man and his friends are conscripted for a mission. Will they succeed in their endeavors? Will they be able to figure out whats going on? Can they make themselves a home in a strange universe?
1. Prologue

Well, this is my first story here. I may continue this or not, just doing this a practice and something to kill time.

* * *

"What... where am I?" A man asked – floating in what seems to be space, Stars shined in the distance and comets flew by. It was a beautiful sight, as he watched this peaceful view, realizing that perhaps this may have been a dream… or one hell of a trip.

"You seem to be enjoying this, Alston" a voice said seemingly echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once, "Welcome to my realm, mortal. You are perhaps the first one and the last one to react this way"

"Realm? First one? Last one? And how'd you know my name?"

"Well, yes. This is my 'domain', my home so to speak. A place nowhere near your 'home' or ever will be. By the first one, I mean that you are the first to be so relaxed upon waking and by last? You are simply the last to be awakened and your name? that shall be a secret."

"Is this death?" Alston asked his face one of calmness and peace.

"No, Like I said. This is my Realm and domain. You have not died nor are you in 'Limbo" as the others called it," The voice paused for a moment, before continuing. "I am what you consider a 'God' but I am not THE God and I have a proposition for you."

Suddenly a white light appeared , a white marble appeared covered in red and blue light, mesmerizing the Alston in its sheer _perfection_.

"Hmm, you should be adequate for the 'mission'," It whispered. "The others were the same."

"What others? What game? Why me, why can I not go home?" The man asked, his urge to panic, to scream and most of all to resist…. Just melted as he looked at the glowing ball.

"The other humans, they were chosen to be a part of this. All of them accepted, when they awakened from their slumber. Whether they liked it or not-" The light soon shined, as four pictures shined showing what seemed to be face shots.

The man's face paled as he recognized a few of the faces, "What? Is that Dan? Why is Francis in this?" Then confusion "and who are the Other two?"

"They were all 'chosen', they all 'agreed' and now they have started their 'mission' as will you when you join them." It glowed as it spoke.

"What have you done to my FRIENDS?" The man raged trying to mentally resist, but to little effect. The light still held him within it's mesmerizing glow.

"I did nothing, they chose of their own free will. Now I am tiring of this conversation. Will you or will you not accept this 'mission'?" it flashed with a red glow violently, before switching back to its original color

"At least tell me what the mission is about?" The man slumped mentally, he knew he had no power here, no amount of rage will help him, no prayer will be answered.

"No"

The man was about to voice something, before he was cut off. "Not because I do not want to, but because I cannot, It shall be revealed when you are 'sent'" It paused as he let it sink in, "However, I can explain a bit about WHAT you're going to get to help you succeed in this mission.

The marble shined, once more adopting a golden hue as a book as formed from the star dust.

Staring at the Book, the man's eye shined in recognition and surprise. For it was something he was intimately familiar with, something he and his friends have spent weeks, no months talking and reading thru… it was a Warhammer 40K codex.

"You…. Want me to play 40K?" The man asked in a puzzled tone.

"Yes… and No," The globe opened the book towards a section, revealing numbers, stats and Units. "You shall be given the ability to 'Requisition' units up to a certain limit, this limit however can be expanded on as you build up your influence or complete goals in this 'game'. It will be all in all, similar to a simple tabletop game of yours."

As the man was about to ask, he was once more cut off. "Do not worry about what faction you are going to use and where their 'loyalties' lie, I've taken the liberty of choosing one you are familiar with an-"

"Why?" The man asked. "Why do this, and do my friends have the same thing also?"

"Yes" was the globes only reply. "Now as I was saying, each unit shall stay with you. They will follow your orders and only your beliefs. They are independent and have their own personalities but cannot and will not harm you; they are in all essence dumb 'AI'."

"You are essentially their leader, a hero and a savior in their eyes. Now time is running short, things are progressing and those who reap shall return. When you awaken you will be given a walkthrough in your new abilities. Seek your friends in the cold galaxy, they will help you…. Or not"

Alston looked onwards with even more confusion, "Wait, What? Where am I going?" he cried out as he started to dissipate.

"You'll see" the marble replied, before Alston faded entirely from view.

* * *

"Do you think they will succeed? Another voice said, before revealing itself next to the Marble. The form of another marble, redder and smaller than the first one.

"I believe so, His friends have certainly proven themselves…. to a degree." A small window showed itself, each watching displaying the various humans, both of them peered and watched the screen with a mutual amusement.

* One monitor shows a squad of bellowing Ogryns led by a screaming priest with an Executioner, in what looks like a dessert. Charging into a pack of Blood pack Krogan and colliding with them in a vicious melee. A Ogryn bone'ead headbutting a Krogan into the ground, while another smashed it's head in with a crack of it's shock maul.A Giant Ogryn stood at the back, bellowing orders through a giant vox-caster on his back and protecting a Man in a commissar uniform firing at a Vorcha with his las-pistol.*

*Another monitor, showed what seemed to be half-men and machine in purple cloaks, eyes glowing a light blue as it rotated around an intricate domed stealthy towards what seemed to be an encampment patrolled by yellow armored beings, a symbol of a circle with three lines going sideways. Moving close enough, before they burst out in a streak of mechanical fury and hate. Attacking any and all that approached them or tried to flee, those that arrive fell at their feet. Clawing at bleeding ears and bloodshot eyes from the cries.*

He smiled at these and then looked at the remaining two, these he frowned at. The words "Signal/Player Lost" displayed at him, as if it was taunting him.

"I believe so because I hope so." He said, to his guest.


	2. The Awakening

AN: I was bored again,

"talking"

' _thinking'_

* * *

"Wait, What? Where am I going?" he cried out as he started to dissipate.

As soon as his sight went dim, he saw visions and dreams. As he clenched his teeth in pain, visions of an unknown man, shoving itself inside his brain.

 _Thousands of men mustering on the parade grounds. Companies slamming to attention, bearing the skull as they marched in formation into the gaping maw of a mammoth transport ship._

" _We are His Hammer"_

 _Hundreds of men, in dark ocean blue guard armor, drilled in formation inside cavernous hangers. The sound of clashing metal and grunts of pain, echoing in the air_

" _He is Our Shield"_

 _Tanks and vehicles of multiple varieties are stenciled and cared for, by tech-priests waving incense and chanting in Binaric tongue. However, everything stops as alarms sound and men ran to their stations, weapons at the ready._

" _Only in death does duty end"_

 _Troopers are manning makeshift barricades throughout the ship as they repulse screaming green giants, their bodies clad in scrap metal and armed with rusty blades and improvised guns, as the ship shakes violently. Loud war cries echo thru the hallways, answered by the sound of las and bolter fire._

" _The Emperor Protects"_

 _A man in an elaborate armor is watching from the bridge, bodies from the naval serfs and the orkish boarders litter the floor. The various terminals and walls, showered with bullet holes and sparks; he gives an order to the surviving crew "Ramming speed ahead, The Emperor Protects."._

 _The transport ship steers its way towards a ramshackle ship ahead. The wounded and dying machine spirit of the ship giving a final death cry as it pierces inside and explodes, leaving nothing but dust and scrap._

As soon as that explosion hit him, he blacked out.

* * *

"Good morning, General Alston! I am Servo Skull #05, I am here to provide you with information and to temporally assist you."

My eyes were soon flashed open, as I looked upwards from the ground at what seemed to be a floating skull, something I would recognize from pictures of the Imperial guard.

I was amazed that this was real and shocked also. Positive that it was no a trip or some kind of dream.

I felt _different_ as I got up from the ground, examining myself and my surroundings, noting the difference to my body and that I seem to be in a forest of some kind.

My clothes and jeans became a fine uniform, sections of it covered in Carapace armor plates, an ornate pistol and a sword of some kind on my waist. I felt my arms and instead of flab, I felt muscles and scars.

My vision from my left eye, adopting something of a mechanical view, as I unconsciously zoomed in on my arms. I felt where my left eye was supposed to be, but was greeted to cold metal. On the top left of my vision, I noticed a small bar that displayed "0/250".

"Now that you're awake, the Introduction can now continue!" It sounded rather chirpy, happy even. " You have been chosen to participate in a special mission, that mission is for you to survive in this universe and don't **Die**! How you do so is up to you, but it is highly recommended that you do not screw around here."

My heart paused as it uttered the word 'Survive' and the tone it adopted when it said 'die', I stared at the floating skull as it bobbed up and down in the air, happily as if it was holding something exciting back.

"You are able to 'requisition' resources and forces from the Imperium which shall appear near you or if not somewhere in your general vicinity. These resources include men, weapons and more from your respective 'faction'. Anything and everything you need to allow a Regiment of the Astra Militarum to run at maximum efficiency has been placed at your disposal…. Pending that you have enough points to afford it of course."

It continued to bob up and down, before swaying sideways. I was getting a bit dizzy, before the skull suddenly continued.

"You have been given the standard limit of two hundred and fifty point limit, this can be increased when you complete 'feats' or 'goals', which will be assigned to you whenever you complete one. The points will of course, depend on what you summon or use. You are allowed to summon your units once a day, and you do have a minor ability to heal your units. However it will exhaust you as you use it more, and it doesn't work on vehicles of course!"

It paused as it floated over to a clearing, gesturing me with it's flashing eye to follow.

"I would like for you to think of the word 'codex'," It said, I did so and soon a list of some kind popped down. Inspecting said list, I easily recognized units from the Imperial guard codex.

From the simple squads of guardsmen, to the elites of the Tempestus Scions and somehow even the Imperial Knights of the Questor Imperialis. Though I did notice that it was 'blacked' out and unavailable currently to my disappointment, alongside much of the more larger and/or _specialized_ units.

I mean who wouldn't like a walking mech or a giant tank the size of a city block.

"I see that you have managed to get it working!" It chirped, "Now, if you notice the number on the bottom left of each picture on the list, that is the 'Point' cost." I noticed a small number as I looked.

"The simplest squad of Guardsmen for example, would cost you about forty points for a group of ten or in other words four points each. Each unit would come with it's base equipment, anything else you would like to equip besides the base would have to be purchased with points."

Then it flew up to me, "Please summon a Command squad and a few guardsmen squads now, they will assist you." I nodded to get it to back off, before I mentally clicked the necessary icons. Soon the sound of twigs snapping came from behind me, I instinctively drew my sword and faced it.

However I paused as squads of familiar looking blue armored guardsmen marched out of the bush, pausing upon seeing me and saluted. I could make out the standard Guardsmen kit, seeing las guns, vox-casters and a few of them of them holding a hellguns and various heavy weapons.

The meter quickly displayed 124/250.

"Lord general, we have arrived." A young tan man with Colonel stripes approached before saluting. A man behind him, holding the regimental standard in one hand and saluting with the other. The flag displaying an Aquila over what looked to be waves, words scribbled in High and low Gothic weaved into it, my mind translating the words "Aquarian 4th Regiment". Below it was the regimental motto of "From the depth of Aquarius, we rise to serve"

"Great job!" The skull congratulated me, the squad ignoring him as they stood at attention.

I ignored it. As I inspected the squad, I knew this regiment because I created this regiment. It was a homebrew regiment I made as a joke, something that was supposed to justify the ocean blue color scheme I liked to use.

"At ease, Colonel Nes. " The words flowing out of my mouth. Memories of the man, his name and standard guard operating procedures came to the front of my mind. "I need you to gather your men, and begin to set up a base of operations here. We don't know where we are, but I know that the Emperor will surely guide us in the dark times.

"Affirmative, General!" As many of them marched off, spreading out to recon the area. While others started to pull shovels from nowhere, the metal shovels digging into the earth to slowly form trenches, men walked here and there setting up tents and patrols. The command squad stood nearby, as the one with the Vox-caster bellowed out orders and commands.

As they left me, I looked at the Skull, it looked back at me. "Why are these men, the color of my Homebrew regiment?" I asked the skull, curiosity flowing through me.

"It is as he said before if you remember. He chose a 'faction' you are most familiar with and of that faction, this regiment is the one you are comfortable with seeing. You will need it for the challenges ahead… especially in this 'universe'." The skull stopped bobbing and stayed level at my eyes.

I suddenly felt a chill in my back, as I keyed together the clues I've been given. Warhammer 40k, ' _Those who reap shall return?'_ and the constant mention of 'Survival'.

My soul wanted to leave my body as I felt my guts cramp with realization, while my skin paled with fright. I was in the 40k universe, a universe that focuses around Deamons that want your soul, Xenos that either want to eat, enslave or flay your flesh and not necessary in that order and homicidal green man eating fungus. With only a small group of Guardsmen under my command and in the middle of nowhere...

I did the only sensible thing I could do, I quickly summoned more units and told them to hunker down for a fight. Praying desperately to the Emperor to save me and my friends ass, wherever they may be.

 _I hope my friends are fine... They're complete idiots though.'_ I thought to myself.

The skull merely followed behind me as I walked towards the quickly growing camp, still bobbing as if nothing was wrong.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the same system.

A fork shaped object shined brightly before discharging a ship, the words 'Normandy SR-2" written on it, gliding its way towards the sole habitable planet in the system.


	3. Finally, some action!

**AN:** I was bored. On another note, My friend was bored and had copious amounts of blackmail.

SO now this story is a two person thing.

* * *

 _"There is no truth in flesh, only betrayal."_

 _Cyborgs in purple clocks marched. Leading these men was techpriest holding a power axe in one hand and a Phosphor Serpenta in the other, with four mechadendrites on his back. Soon they entered a devastated hive city at war, sections collapsed or lit up from the ongoing battle._

 _"There is no strength in flesh, only weakness."_

 _They walk through the streets, littered with the mangled corpses of guardsmen and Tau Fire Warriors._

 _"There is no constancy in flesh, only decay."_

 _They soon arrive at their destination as below them, a fierce firefight is ongoing between a Guard platoon and the Tau Fire Warriors. Las and bolt rounds intermixed with Tau pulse rounds and missiles. The guards were being beaten back, until the Skitarii from above unleashed hail after hail of accurate fire._

 _"There is no certainty in flesh but death."_

 _A group of battlesuits used their jump jets to crash into the Skitarii lines, knocking a few off the edge to their deaths. The Battlesuits caused havoc among the silent Mechanicus forces, each blast from their cannons destroying many men. The tech priest charged at one and tackled it off the cliff, crying of "For the Omnissiah!"._

 _Both of them plummeted to their deaths below, as the tech priest hacking at the flailing battlesuit with his crackling power axe._

* * *

[Magos Nokia, the signal appears to emitting from inside an outpost.] The stream of Binary shook me out of my memory, bringing me back to the present, as I turned my mechanized head at the one that sent it.

I felt bit of relief that my long journey finally ended. Sitting atop a Dunecrawler for days nonstop through heavy rain tends to leave me antsy for something to do. The servo skull that accompanied me since the beginning was powered off and tucked underneath my purple robes, waiting for me to 'find the source of the signal' in order to award me with points.

Points that I desperately needed. The cost of my army having maxing it out at 300, for less than fifteen units, albeit highly advanced units. I sighed internally.

I focused on the speaker, the many tubes extending from his mask to his breastplate reminding me of a beard and his dome-shaped head looked like a character from a show I once knew. [What is in this outpost, and is it Imperial?] I asked, the other Skitarii half-paying attention as they continue to lookout for anything that appears hostile. It was comprised mostly of a squad of Rangers, Ruststalkers and some Infiltrators, the crown jewel being the Dunewalker I was leaning on.

[It is not. I believe it may be Tau, Magos Nokia. The visual data from the servo skull has found a symbol that bears a ninety four percent resemblance to that of the Tau world of Dal'yth,] he replied in a tone that contained no hint of emotion.

My relaxed lean on the side of the Dunecrawler switched to an alert stance as I bring my undivided attention to the scout, my four mechadendrites moved like snakes. The other Skitarii around me bristle with rage at the news they overheard.

[Address me as Magos. You mean to tell me that those _xenos_ are here, or have we somehow ended up in one of their sectors?]

[We must purge them for the Omnissiah!] one of the Rangers said angrily in binary, shouldering his arc rifle as his goggle's blue lenses glowed with hate. I can sense the others silently voicing their agreement.

' _I remember now, I made them to hate the Tau the most.'_ I thought to myself.

I raised a hand at him in a placating manner, sending out a code on the Noosphere for them to calm down. [We must, yet we must not be hasty.] I turn back to the Infiltrator, [What is the size and composition of the outpost? Do they appear to be capable of piercing armor?]

I rap the side of the Dunecrawler's box-chassis for emphasis.

[The camp appears to outnumber us four to one. I am uncertain as to the small arms, but they have many large, humanoid drones at their disposal stored in may be a warehouse of sorts.] A light bulb turned on in his head. [... Is it possible for you to convince the alien machine-spirits of those heretek abominations to turn on their xeno masters?] He asked me.

I started to think whether I should admit that I am unable to, or that I do not know the answer, since I'm actually not their Magos, so to say. A thought, or 'file' in this case, appeared in my head. Curiously I opened it and it displayed formulas, lines of code, chants and prayers that are _somewhat_ related to the subject at hand.

After a full minute of looking this over, I answer the Alpha Infiltrator with uncertainty. [If they have not been isolated or contained properly, and it is perhaps a lesser or inexperienced one, then it should be achievable. However, that is with Imperial machine spirits. I am unsure of the possibility with these _things._ ]

Then I raised my hands in a shrugging motion. [But, let us test the possibility. Should I succeed or fail, we will still send them to be judged by the Omnissiah.] An idea surfaces as I look at the Infiltrator. [And here is how we'll do it.]

* * *

[From the weakness of the mind, Omnissiah save us. From the lies of the Antipath, circuits preserve us.] Alfa-01 chanted as he and his fellow Infiltrators slowly crept through the bushes towards the 'Tau' camp.

Their chants were projected as a small disruptive wavelength field, a buzz to the normal ear, that should disable or at least disrupt any surveillance of their approach. The buzz was easily masked by the rain. Alfa-01 disliked the rain, he would rather it be dry and dusty like his home forge-world of Titun, but the sacrifices one must give for the Machine God.

Stalking around the buildings and in some cases underneath the supports. He noted that they lacked the certain architecture of the Tau, resembling blocks instead of the usual 'melting mushroom' look.

As he crawled underneath another building, he and his squad paused as the booted feet of another group walked by. They walked not with a disciplined march, but the walk of someone not having a care in the world.

' _Their failures of observation are the Ommisiah's gain.'_ Alfa-01 thought to himself as the xenos passed by, heading towards a building that may have been their motor pool. The sight of unfamiliar vehicles in and around it. Alfa-01 took a few pictures and sent them to the Magos through the noosphere. He paused as he saw one of the "Tau" walking around without a helmet.

He was disgusted and intrigued with this "Tau". He noted carefully that it lacked the distinct large forehead and the Y shape symbol between their eyes. Instead its scalp was similar to a bundle of tentacles facing behind it, its facial features and body shape disturbingly identical to a human woman in blue body paint. He sent this information to the Magos with a 'Priority' code enclosed. If this was a new caste of the Tau, it would be imperative that the Imperium became aware of this.

One of Alfa-01's squadmates signaled him with a small binaric burst. [Target building found, sensors have picked up one lifeform inside. Most likely an engineer.]. The infiltrator gestured slightly to a garage like structure, one door carelessy wide open.

[Acknowledged. Once we deal with this xeno, the Magos can begin conversing with the machine spirits.] Alfa-01 responded, and they moved from cover to cover, avoiding any light sources or open areas and quickly entered the garage. The last Infiltrator quietly closed and locked the door before barricading it with a nearby crate.

Un-holstering his flechette blaster, Alfa-01 led his squad through this maze of boxes and vehicles, taking pictures and sending them to the Magos for his review. After turning a corner, what he finds makes him pause in horror.

On the far edge of the room was a helmetless black-haired human in yellow armor, his attention on a row of inactive mechs. A holographic device covered his forearm as the man waved his hand at one of the small mechs, like he was scanning it.

A human, wearing Tau armor… A child of the Omnissiah that had committed heresy of the highest degree: Using unsanctified technologies and betraying his origins. He received a notification on the Noosphere from the Magos _just_ as he was about to strike down the heathen. The Magos wished for them to recover information and any technologies that they are capable of getting away with as a secondary objective.

Alfa-01 was eager to comply as he brought out his taser goad and set it to a less 'lethal' setting, the arc of electricity flared silently as the white noise was still active. His squadmates spread out around the warehouse as he walked behind the human and prepped to strike.

The man was unaware as he was hit on the head, electricity overloading his heretical mind as he convulsed on top of the mech. Alfa-01 took great joy at watching him squirm and suffer from the power of his god made manifest, but was saddened when he had to ensure that he lived, cutting off the weapons power and leaving the still breathing man on the ground.

 _A live subject is a good source of information_ , he judged.

[Hide the heretic,] Alfa-01 spat. One of his squadmates was glad to comply, dragging him by the foot none-too-gently to an empty crate that was too small for him to fit comfortably. The sound of some bones cracking was heard; but Alfa-01 ignored it as he faced the row of mechs, some man-sized, others much larger [Magos, the coast is clear; you may begin.]

He soon felt a presence inside his head connected to him by a data tether, gently probing him for entry. He accepted and soon felt the machine-god enter his unworthy frame, as his arms moved and flexed without his input, and he was immersed into a sea of numbers.

* * *

' _I think I would have had better luck flirting with a blender. Or maybe a toaster; they're easier.'_ I grumbled to myself as I watched a ten-foot tall mech walk out the warehouse wall, easily crushing a Tau on the other side.

I quickly disconnected from the Infiltrator, but not before telling him and his team to go for plan 'B' over the Noosphere. As in Plan 'Be Ready to Fuck Shit Up, We're on Our Way'.

[Heathens be cleansed from their sins to the Omnissiah!]

[The Machine God's wrath is upon you!]

[Get up, come on, get down with the sickness!]

Numerous phrases were shouted by the Infiltrators from the vox radio, punctuated by gunshots from their weapons and the buzzing of a taser goad hitting flesh. The screams of surprised and suffering Tau were heard clearly as they were exposed fully to the infiltrators sensory bombardment that was the Binaric tongue.

[Rangers, provide covering fire from this ridge! Arquebusier, target the heavy mechs and move after each shot! I will be leading the charge in the Dunewalker with the Ruststalkers.]

I climbed up the ladder on the side of the Dunewalker into the gunner's seat, which was equipped with a Cognis heavy stubber, and rack the gun's bolt. The Dunecrawler itself slowly rose itself from the ground. [Pilot, forward. We must assist our brothers!]

The stalkers crept up the ridge, eager to rush forward but compelled by their orders to the magos to restrain themselves. Rangers followed shortly after, going prone on the ridge and aiming their galvanic rifles at the camp. The Ranger with the Arquebus deployed the weapon's bipod. When the Dunecrawler crested the hill, the pilot fired its Eradication Beam at the base of a watch tower.

A small yellow line appeared, which quickly widened into a cone. The support struts of the tower were quickly torn apart on a atomic level and soon gave way. The occupants firing down on the Infiltrators gave a cry of surprise as they fell on top of what looks to be a barracks, collapsing the sides and roof.

The Rangers fired down on the surprised defenders with inhuman accuracy, made possible with the targeter arrays inside their eye implants and the targeting data from those besides them. A 3-round burst struck a Tau, the first two rounds hit a force field that covered the Tau and dissipated it, but the last round penetrated the chest, disintegrating it.

The Dunecrawler stomped its way into the outpost while Tau scattred from the Rangers' overwatch or merely disintegrated from the close range of the Eradicator beam. Blue lights flashed rapidly on the hull of the tank as incoming fire from desperate defenders hit the Emmantus force field.

The Ruststalkers escorting the tank moved with surprising agility as they surged towards Tau, their blades giving off a stomach churning hum as they cut into flesh and armor like they were wet paper. So sharp were the weapons that the victims did not realize that they have been cut until their limbs and/or intestines were already on the floor. Purple, red and greenish blood pooling on the floor beneath.

* * *

Alfa-01 quickly jammed his taser goad's prongs into the gut of a Tau human, who quickly caught on fire as there was enough voltage on the goad's highest setting to kill him five times over. Alfa-01 peered around to see how his squad was doing, all of them chanting and singing hymns to the Omnissiah, as those who were not 'enlightened' or had protection recoiled or suffered from it. Attempting to clasps thier hands over bleeding ears and squeezing shut bloodshot eyes, he smiled as he fired point blank into one of them kneeling before him.

Alfa-02 and 03 were doing remarkably well, working together to reap a bounty of bodies. However, as Alfa-02 was about to execute one of the crippled Tau, he was hit by a missile from behind and he was engulfed in a fireball.

His chant and his connection on the Data Tether was cut off. Alfa-01 heard 03 mourn in binary, before deciding to wreak vengeance on the heretic who killed him. He moved his vision towards the general location of him and saw something big.

It was similar to the mech in build and color to the one the Magos had crashing through a wall. But it was being piloted by a Tau, evident by a glass cockpit in the torso, the female pilot's blue face contorted with rage. The pilot raised the gun-arm in Alfa-01's direction and fired.

" _A new Battlesuit?"_ Alfa-01 thought as he ran for cover from the hail of shot. Making notes and observations and compiling them into a data package to inform the Magos. It did not have the usual frame of a Battlesuit, appearing to be bulkier and having less range of motion than a Crisis Battlesuit. It looked like someone just slapped a glass cockpit in the middle of a mech.

[Foolish xenos, who would use glass instead of armor?] he remarked to himself. The mech walked forward as it switched targets, machine gun shooting at Alfa-02, who moved too fast for the pilot to get a proper bead on as he charged forward. Cants and psalms of hate spewing from his vox speakers, shots from his stubcarbine proved to be ineffective against its force field.

As he neared Alfa-02 jumped up, ready to stab his power sword through the glass and hopefully, the pilot's face.

The claw arm stopped his plan short, grabbing him by the waist. The Infiltrator convulsed a bit as the claw quickly squeezed, malforming and compressing the metal waist as parts began to break. Alfa-02 struggled but was unable to bring his weapon to bear.

Alfa-01 broke cover to assist his squadmate. But just as he vaulted, he saw a Tau glow blue throw an orb at him, he quickly slid to ground anticipating a grenade of some sorts. He did not expect for it to hit him and cover him in a blue flame that didn't burn.

He felt a prickling sensation throughout his body as he started shaking. Diagnostic messages flared warnings as multiple components of cybernetics started to take damage, his vision becoming noisy. He quickly fired a burst from his Flechette blaster at the Tau, The machine spirit in the first dart proceeded to guide the rest of the his shots towards her, turn her face into a pin cushion.

[The Tau have psykers now… a genetic impossibility. The Magos _must_ be made aware of this,] he mumbled weakly, compiling as much as he could in his current state. However it was then that a missile struck the ground before Alfa-01, launching him straight into a wall, it was to his dismay and shame that he could only send out a partial package before he blacked out.

* * *

A ping sounded in my head, alerting me to my point limit. As I looked at it, I saw that it had gone down from 300 to 282, I had a grim face. Something had killed one of them, I held on as the Dunecrawler turned a corner firing at what seemed to be a group of Tau hunkering behind a barricade of crates, before they were eradicated.

Another ping. 264. Another Infiltrator dead.

"Huh, and I thought this would be easy," I mumbled to myself in English.

The force field on the Dunecrawler flared violently in a blue flash, as a series of missiles and impacted the port side. The Dunecrawler recovered quickly but before it can turn the face the shooter, something crashed it from the side and proceeded to lift it.

I wasn't strapped in to the gunner seat, so the tank rolling over threw me out of the tank. I hit the ground in a roll and jumped to my feet with the help of my mechadendrites. The Dune crawler was on its side, its legs kicking uselessly as they tried to right itself.

I turned around, pulling out and activating my power axe for whatever attacked, one of my mechadendrites aimed at the source with its built in lasgun while another one flared into a bright plasma torch. I would look at what was a bastard child of the mech I hacked earlier and what I would have to assume is a cockpit made of glass. " _What kind of idiot makes a cockpit out of glass?"_ I thought to myself.

A Tau was eagerly grinning in joy as she fired point blank repeatedly into the underbelly of the Dunecrawler, its claw ensuring that it would be unable to upright itself. Too close for the Emmantus field to take effect and it was showing, as one of the shots hit a vital part and crippled one of the flailing legs.

The mech's gun-arm exploded, the boom of a gunshot echoed a moment later. The mech shook violently as the pilot readjusted itself. The report of a miss from the ranger manning the Arquebus on the Noosphere.

[Don't shoot at this one anymore, it is mine!] I commanded, circling around the crippled Dunecrawler to the one armed mech.

It turned to me. Its other arm pointed directly at me, and I shoot it with my phosphor pistol. The burning white spheres flew out and stuck to the arm, melting the armor and searing into the joints

[Shoot the right leg,] I ordered the Arquebus armed Ranger. A moment later the leg exploded at the thigh, followed by loud shot echoing across the outpost, toppling the mech on its right side and disabling it.

[Rangers, move in! Secure this outpost and its resources for the Omnissiah!]

I walked towards the cockpit, raising the mechandrite with the ignited plasma torch. I touched the glass with the torch and begin to cut a hole, moving slowly. The pilot screaming in terror, muffled by the glass, repeating a word over and over again. " _Geth!"_.

" _Attention to all Astra—…rian 4th regi—…mmand of Ge—…Alston. If there—…ase respond!"_

I pause at the transmission from the vox, but my mechadendrite continues to cut the circle on its own, Alston? 4th regi? Regiment? … Aw fuck, that numpty is here. I should perhaps contact him, maybe get him to come here, No use wasting a base after all.

The hole completes with a clatter, and the screaming gets both more fearful and clearer.

The skull in my robes made a loud _PING_ and my point limit increased by twenty. Guess I found the signal.


	4. Revelations

**AN:** _I was bored again, so was my friend._

Also we were incredibly surprised that people like this. We fully intended originally to just fool around with this as we had no planning, no idea, and no clue on the plot.

So now we're just gonna say thanks… And do us a favor and review a chapter or two.

No, seriously. I'm not kidding here .

 _people, reviews; follows and favorites don't tell what you like or dislike about this story._

* * *

"E.D.I, what the E.T.A. on those coordinates?" Cassidy Shepherd asked , moving near to the cockpit as she looked out the window. Joker turned his head and saw Shephard approaching. Shephard just looked out the window, as the Normandy was nearing a planet, a seemingly unimportant world in the Terminus.

"Pretty soon, we're just about to reach orbit. Hard to see why he would want us to head out to the middle of nowhere in the Terminus." Joker answered.

"E.T.A. is estimated at fifteen minutes on current speed, mister Moreau." A robotic female voice sounded out from what seemed to be a mushroom shaped hologram besides joker.

"I don't either, but from what I know he wants us to recover a prototype that was stolen from him. Something he thinks might be of some use to us." Shepherd looked onwards, her mind pondering back to the meeting.

* * *

"Illusive man," Shepard greeted, eyes watching the hologram of a man in an expensive suit sitting on a chair smoking a cigarette.

After the man took a puff, he said to her, "Shepard, something has come up, something I think you could help me with." He took another puff and keyed pressed a button on his chair. an holographic image of what seemed to be a mech pops up between the two.

"Someone hired Eclipse to intercept a shipment of prototypes heading for testing at one of our facilities. We've managed to repel the assault and secure all the prototypes. Well, all but one." He took another drag from the cigarette, his glowing eyes looking at Shephard.

Shepard crossed her arms, annoyed. "You want me to get it back for you." She said in a questioning tone, "Why me and not some of your people?"

"As I said, these mechs are prototypes." He pressed another set of buttons on the chair, highlighting key parts of the mech. Namely the weapons and armor.

"I want you to use it for your mission. Seeing as you'll be going around the galaxy in your search for the Collectors, it wouldn't hurt to have some extra firepower for the ride."

He took another long drag, "Plus, it gets to be tested far more extensively than in a lab, a win-win situation for the both of us."

Shepard sighed. Although the firepower was nice, it was looked slow, more designed for defensive situations, that and she would have to dedicated someone to use it. Now if what TIM wanted her to acquire something like the Mako IFV, then Shepard would be all for it.

"Send me the coordinates," She relented, if nothing more than to shut him up.

"Already sent," he said. "Good luck, Shepard." He cut the link.

* * *

"Shepard, scanners have shown that the area is currently experiencing an anomaly. Simulated tests have shown that wireless forms of communication will have some difficulty during this storm." The mushroom glowed as it pronounced every word. "From what little visual scans we've received and data sent by the Illusive man. It has confirmed an Eclipse base is present."

"Roger that, EDI. Summon the ground team. We might as well use this storm to our advantage," She said, walking off towards the elevators.

"Affirmative, Shepard."

"This should be easy for her, nothing can go wrong here." Joker said.

"Shepard, wait. I have managed to pick up a faint repeating signal, it is being broadcasted on a radio frequency. I have cleaned it as much as I could, Should I play it?"

Shepard paused as she was just about to near the door, curiosity on her face. "Alright, play the message."

 _"Attention to all A—…4th regi—… general Als—… If there—… respond!"_

Shepard and Joker looked at each other. The latter spoke, "Did you catch any of that?"

Shepard shook her head. "It sounded like a bunch of languages mixed together, think I heard some Latin near the end."

"I detect hints of at least 4 human languages, Shepard. Though I have little evidence to support it. It is however not a recognizable, known or used language on any Citadel or even Alliance records." EDI replied, as Shepherd was pondering something.

"If that's the case, forward it to Miranda. Maybe she can understand what this man's saying." She left the cockpit towards the elevator, giving a passing nod to the yeoman before entering it.

She arrived on the fourth floor to find Jacob and Miranda waiting by the shuttle, Miranda having her omni-tool activated, presumably listening to the transmission. Jacob saluted as he spotted Shepard walk up.

"Anything yet, Miranda?" Shepard asked her executive officer.

"Nothing yet, Shephard. I understand only bits and pieces, and none of my programs recognize this as a code. I don't see the Eclipse broadcasting on open channels nor using human languages to encrypt their communications," she said, before continuing. "However, whoever sent this is most likely not Eclipse either, from what I can piece together. It sounds like someone is looking for something."

"Or an S.O.S." Jacob offered.

"Whatever or whoever sent it," Miranda continued. "it's relatively close to the coordinates we are heading for but still a good distance away. It's a miracle that the Eclipse haven't found the broadcaster yet, though I wouldn't say that for long."

"We better get moving, then. We can probably check it out if it's still their later." Shepard said as she entered the shuttle, followed by Jacob and Miranda.

The shuttle was soon released of its clamps as the Normandy opened its hangar, disgorging it on a flyby.

* * *

In what was once a clearing of woods and shrubs less than a day ago, a small camouflaged military camp bustled with activity. Barbed wire surrounded the perimeter alongside manned trenches of wet parka-garbed guardsmen. Camouflage nets littered the area as rain beat down on them all.

In the center of this camp was a large tent, a few antennas sticking out. Inside this tent was a commsman crewing a master vox, repeating a sentence over and over again, the man adjusted various dials and knobs.

Various other soldiers stood or sat nearby, going through various reports and miscellaneous details with the Colonel who was sitting with a group of them debating something.

Behind all of them was General Alston, a skull floated beside him as he sat next to a table covered in various maps and papers. His face staring down at a tray of reconstituted protein blocks with bits of 'mystery meat' brought in by his aide from the nearby mess tent.

Said aide was a private, whose name also happened to be Private, was standing vigilantly near him with a pitcher full of a hot unknown liquid called 'recaf'. The name 'private Private' amused me, which was why I chose him as my aide. Not a bad choice, considering the others, he thought to himself.

The man just sat and continue to look down, while picking up the spork and took another bite. Forcing it down and taking a large sip from a mug. A rather distasteful look on his face from both the meal and the drink.

"You know something, private? I remember hearing a long time ago that the stronger the army, the worse the food. I was not aware that the Imperial Guard were this strong." The general took a long sip out of the mug, before it was refilled quickly by the private.

The private said nothing. He knew it was not his place to respond to the Lord General; he nodded in acknowledgment to the taste of said rations. There was a reason they were called 'corpse' rations after all.

The general merely stared at the various maps handed to me by the various scouts, all drawn with varying qualities from what you would expect from a professional cartographer to something that would look more at home in a preschooler's art gallery, complete with the misspelt names, too.

He sighed, thinking to himself, 'I hope that someone friendly gets that message soon. I'm out of my league here.'

He looked over at the man stationed at the Master Vox, speaking repeatedly into the mike. "Attention to all Astra Militarum forces, this is the Aquarian 4th Regiment under the command of General Alston. Please respond!", pausing for a bit before repeating. He had been a parrot for the past few hours, and would continue to be one until his shift ended or he got a response.

"4th Regi…—Magos Nok…—anicus. I and my…—act with…—forces." The box crackled back in low gothic, the voice on the other end sounding a bit mechanical.

'Son of a bitch, that was convenient. Why in the warp didn't I think that earlier?'

"Sir, we have a response!" the soldier cried with relief and hope.

I hastily got off the chair and ran over, the private and the skull followed behind me.

"Who is it? Astra Militarum? Mechanicus?... Astartes?" I said the last one rather tentatively, I knew that if Astartes are involved with anything, it would get 'messy' for us mortals.

"I'm not sure, my Lord. However, I think it may be Mechanicus. I heard the title 'Magos'." The man replied as he kept trying to adjust the various knobs and dials, trying to clear up or strengthen the signal.

"This is the 4th regiment responding, please say again!." however the signal seemed to be getting weaker and more scrambled.

The commsman yelled at a nearby trooper to get outside and adjust the antenna, while he desperately tried to calibrate the signal via knobs and dials. The voice on the other end getting more and more scrambled. However he paused, then looked at me. "My Lord, may I ask you to step back a bit, I'm gonna use one of the litanies of repair."

I took a small step back as the commsman cocked his arms back, palms open.

"Strike the device casing by employing the chosen wrench." he mumbled before hitting the Master Vox. The voice suddenly became more and more clear.

"4th Regiment, this is Magos Nokia of the Adeptus Mechanicus. I and my forces have made contact with Tau forces."

My heart and all the others' in the tent stopped, the din of silence besides the rain hitting the roof of the tent. At least before a very loud ping from the skull behind me, causing me and a few others to move/jump/duck.

I soon noted in my vision on the top left that my points had increased by twenty.

"That was a mission?"

* * *

It's an asari. I was looking at an asari… A species from a different universe then Warhammer's. Her neck was in my claw-mechandrite's grasp, tears mixing with the rain streaming down her face as her eyes were squeezed shut, likely not wanting to look at me.

How in the name of the Omnissiah did I not notice this? Wait, all those data packets from the Infiltrators. I haven't checked those yet.

Yep, that's an asari, alright. Crap… I think I killed a whole base of them. Oh well.

My omnispex notified me of various things as it continued scanning her: her vitals, brain activity, perspiration levels, an unusual element in her body and other medical advice about her. Looking down at her breastplate, the logo of the Eclipse mercenaries stood large and proud. No my scout thought it was Tau.

[Magos, we have located the missing Infiltrator," a Ranger alerted over the Noosphere. "He is in one piece, yet it looks as if his body has been compromised somehow."

"Explain," I ordered, voice tense.

"A wall should not have damaged Sicarian battle armor as much as I see here, nor should the shockwave from an explosion." A viewscreen appeared at the top right corner of my vision, showing me the Infiltrator lying in a somewhat crumpled heap.

"How are his vitals?"

"Stable, yet weak. He must be seen by a Tech-priest for repairs and assessment… or at least 'recycling'."

A Tech-priest. The staple of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Of all the units I could have spawned in, I should have had at least one Te…

I facepalm in outrage; I'm a Magos, which is a high-ranking Tech-priest. "I'll be there shortly."

I start walking, absently taking this girl with me. I ignored the Maiden's struggles and her cries focusing on the corpses we had accumulated. It was mostly asari, with the occasional salarian and human. I stepped on one asari's head accidentally, crushing it like an egg underneath my weight. She screamed even louder. "Must've known this one." I thought for a moment before remembering something.

[If anyone you encounter is hostile, kill them. Especially if they glow blue.] I ordered on the Noosphere.

A series of confirmations rang out, some even eyeing my prisoner with a vibe of "Come on, do it."

I scraped the pulp and bone fragments off my metal foot as I walked, thinking about how strange it was that I wasn't disturbed by it.

I reach the Ranger who found Alfa-01, dumping the asari on the floor and ignoring her gasp of air. "Watch her," I told the Ranger, who nodded and aimed his rifle at her.

Stepping through the Infiltrator-sized hole in the thin metal wall, I spotted him. It's as the Ranger described, the frame cracked in multiple sections. A black liquid flowing out from some sections.

Alfa-01 stirred, his optics slowly lit up. The once dark glass lighting up slighty.

I knelt to his side. "Do not move, you are injured."

[Psykers… The Tau have psykers." He said, his voice garbled. His vox-box having sustained notable damage.

[I am aware,] I said before gently roll Alfa-01 on his back in order to access his ports, as manuals and instructions mentally guiding me in assessing damage. [Now, be still still while I appraise your damages."]

[You musn't. I would be of better service to you if you recycled me, so that my parts can be reused for someone more worthy.] Alfa-01 tried to convince me.

[With your cybernetics in their current state, that would be unwise. That 'power' of thiers may have compromised your parts. Tests must be conducted before recycling.] I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had no idea what happened whenever anything I summoned 'died'.

I paused as I found the slot that one of my mechadendrites can plug into. Once plugged in, diagnostic data fills my vision. [You are still operational, so you will continue to be of service.] Was all I say, and he stopped speaking.

Reviewing the data informs me that whatever happened to him had caused his armor to deform from a sudden series of rapid applications of pressure, looking into it more it seems that it also affected his internal parts as well.

Thankfully, it is fixable, whatever organic parts he has left are well protected and relatively unaffected. The majority of the damage had been to his mechanical portion.

My mechadendrites and my hands moved automatically, as if on autopilot, new components and parts were pulled seemingly from nowhere or within my robes as I started to work on the crippled infiltrator.

Meanwhile the asari was staring at this 'operation' and me as I somehow summoned equipment into my hands, the terror overwhelmed with curiosity. At least until she saw what organic organs Alfa-0 possessed as I opened his chest cavity. She then screamed before she was silenced by a swift rifle whip.

-0-

Aaaand there. I tightened the final screw and stood. Alfa-01 got to his feet, his body slightly off balance before he adjusted. Flexing his arms, fingers and legs, he looked at me. [You have my thanks, Magos. I did not deserve this.]

He then looked at the unconscious asari on the ground, the Ranger still aiming at her. [Shall I dispose of her?] he asked.

[Negative, she may be of some use.] I blinked as I reviewed the rest of the videos the Infiltrator squad sent me, noting the one of a human with the omni-tool. [The engineer you stuck in a crate, he has a device on his arm. Get it for me.]

Alfa-01 left. I blinked again; omni-tools are a commonplace item. I looked at my new prisoner, a large bruise on her head. [Help me get her arm armor off,] I instructed the asari's guard as I began to pull off her left gauntlet.

Once off, I look at both forearms for—Aha! Found it. A band of some sort. Taking a closer look, I see that it's a bit thicker than I thought, with a few cutouts for something.

I whisper a few chants in binary from the top of my head to the machine spirit of this omni-tool, while I tinkered around with it in my hands and mechadendrites. Let's hope this works.

And let there be light! The omni-tool turns on… And I can't read this chicken shit. Looks like someone just painted a bunch of circles and flowy lines, like shorthand. Now I don't want to touch any buttons lest I press something I shouldn't.

Said the guy who just hacked into a person's smartphone equivalent by just chanting and touching it.

[I procured the device,] Alfa-01 announced, walking up to me as he held an arm that was ripped off at the elbow, for Omnissiah sake. It was still twitching!

[That's an arm.] I said dumbly.

[The device was seen on the armor. I assumed it was built in, and it would take too long to simply remove the armor.] he replied, before looking back. [He should thank me, he can fit in the box even better now.]

Shaking my head, I bring up the omni-tool. [This is what the device looks like.] I turned it off and the holographic gauntlet disappears. [This is what it looks like when deactivated. Let me see that arm.]

He handed the arm, and with the help of my claw-mechadendrite the omni-tool was freed. It was of a similar model to the one I was examining, Albeit in more of a blueish colour.

'Hallelujah, it's in English!' I sang inside, as I managed to unlock the device after a bit of Binaric persuasion and the use of some of my cybernetic implants. The screen soon appeared to me, detailing what remarkably looks like the screen of a tablet back home on Earth. My microprocessors and software quickly ripped open the contents and assimilated it within a minute.

Aside from learning about the defaults functions of an omni-tool like flashlight, a scanner, this guy was a fucking pervert. Thirty percent of his total hard drive space was of porn, keep in mind that this was a really big hard drive.

Anyways, besides the porn I did manage to finds some language apps, and I can say that I can speak 'asari' and a most of the other languages now…. though I should test it.

The vox crackled again as soon as I unmuted, having to focus on the operation on Alfa-01.

 _"Atte— to ... Astra—…rian 4th regi—…mmand of Ge—…Alston. If there—…ase respond!"_

… Whoops. Forgot all about those guys. "4th Regiment, this is Magos Nokia of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Me and my forces have made contact with Tau forces."

"This is the 4th regiment responding, please say again!."

Thunder booms, reminding me that perhaps this storm was disrupting the vox communications. I needed a way to strengthen my signal. The Eclipse must've had something to communicate with their patrols, my optics looked to the buildings before it spotted what looked to be a mid-size radar dish of sorts and then to my crippled upside down dunewalker.

A idea popped in my head, one that involved a lot of wire and cables.

* * *

"Shepard, I have picked up more transmissions coming from the Eclipse base and the unknown broadcaster from earlier." EDI sounded through the team frequencies, alerting her and the others.

"Send it." Shepard said.

 _"4th Regiment, this is Magos Nokia of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Me and my forces have made contact with Tau forces."_

Shepard, Miranda, and Jacob traded looks as a familiar alien language came out. Miranda's lips pursed, activating her omni-tool and keeping track of the transmission. Fingers dancing across the holographic keyboard as she wrote down words.

Another voice crackled back in response, sounding less robotic than the last speaker and not to mention familiar.

 _"This is General Alston of the Astra Militarum, reading you loud and clear. Do the words "40k" and the name "Francis" mean anything to you?"_

Miranda and Shepard lifted an eyebrow, as they heard two English words in that whole sentence A "4DK" and "Francis", Miranda noted this down along with all the others words she might've recognized as they all stayed silent.

 _"Do the words 'Rickert' and 'Homebrew' mean anything to you?"_ The mechanical speaker or 'Nokia' said in a questioning robotic tone.

Another two words in English.

Suddenly, the other speaker erupted in a angry tone, then a lighter happy tone. _"Damn it, 'Francis', I blame you for getting me in this! I woke up with a new eye! … And a good looking body!"_

" _Hey, I'm just as clueless as you are! I woke up with tentacles on my back. Tentacles! Wait, you don't like your new body?"_ An incensed tone picked up before puzzlement.

 _"No, I do! I'm stating it because I like it and I blame you for this."_

 _"Not my fault!"_

 _"Anyways, let's get to the point. We're in deep shit now. I'm pretty sure we're in a backwater planet in '40K'."_

 _"… Kinda. Listen, I'm talking to you from a base I captured—"_ The mechanical voice was cut off.

 _"… Xeno, human or Chaos?"_ The voice cracked back right away, the tense tone obvious.

 _"Xeno and human. Either way, it's mine now."_

 _"Fine, How fortified is it and are you expecting a counter attack anytime soon?"_

 _"Expecting? Always. Soon? I don't know. This is a small base, so the defenses aren't that much, and I have too few men to adequately defend it."_

 _"Frak, alright. You have a way for me to find you? I got about forty men here and I haven't used my daily summons yet."_

 _"… I can overclock this radar dish and you can follow the signal. That's how I found this place to begin with."_

 _"Very well, I shall have my men start the move asap. I'll use my summons to get us some vehicles. General Alston out."_ The voice stopped before the other responded.

 _"See ya."_

"Commander, the signal from the Eclipse base has gotten stronger." EDI alerted.

Shepard just nodded, before staring back at her teammates. "The hell we just listen to? All I understood was Francis, a "4dk", Rickert and "Homebrew".

All the others shrugged at her question.

Miranda then decided to say something, "It sounds like this 'Francis' may have or is dealing with the Eclipse base if that signal is any clue. Might know the broadcaster, a 'Rickert', considering how that talk seemed to sound. The signal from the base might be 'Francis' trying to send 'Rickert' his way."

"This doesn't sound good." Jacob said,

"No, it doesn't," Shepard agreed, "but it's too late to back out now." She grabs the helmet on her lap and put it on, a hiss from it announcing that it was properly sealed. "Best case scenario is that we meet these guys. Worse case, we shoot them."

"Copy that, Shepard." Jacob put his helmet on. Miranda did the same.

The shuttle landed, and the three humans got out, rifles shouldered.


	5. Meeting of two worlds

**AN:** Well me and my friend was bored again. Anyways a word from the coauthor, who does not want to be named for "reasons".

 **CoAuthor:** Thanks for all the support we got over the past week. But couldn't help but see how… lacking the reviews were in terms of WHAT about the story so far that you like/dislike about it. Saying "it's good/interesting" is nice and uplifting, yet it's not as informative as I would like. To those who have said more than a compliment, thank you and keep it up. Any questions about this fic? ask away to Deeed22. He'll contact me.

 **AN:** Now back to me, Time to answer the reviews I haven't answered.

freechimchangas: The answer is yes, until we get bored and plan something.

Chapter Master Sinclair: Please clarify, We are already planning to make this weird.

Terence: We're planning something.

Rhivan: Thanks for the review, you've hit a lot of good points and thanks.

Srosnan99: Look forward some more... and maybe backwards.

* * *

Fabien fled for his life, passing trees, shrubs and jumping over rocks and ravines. His heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through his veins like a raging river as the rain drenched him. He lost track of where he was, as the rocky terrain gave way to forest and shrubs but he was sure he made it some miles away from the killhouse that was the outpost.

He knew he shouldn't have joined with Eclipse, should've just stayed with the Alliance he thought. However he was regretting this along with the many other choices in his life.

Running alongside a few others that decided to leave while the 'geth' were distracted with those who stayed, until the geth decided to send runners after them.

He was what was left of a group of ten. Running past a small ravine, he heard a desperate feminine scream of pain and for help behind him.

He ran faster. Fabien knew the owner of that scream, a rather cute asari that still owed him fifty credits. She can have them, if only it meant that he can get away. He did not want to see the eyes of that thing, those blue unblinking eyes.

He saw how that thing tore through their armor and shields like silly putty, gunfire was useless as it either danced around or just simply took it, the sand grain sized bullets leaving just a nick. His blade gave anyone who heard it a splitting gut wrenching sensation before it literally went into their guts.

̵̨"̢̛́S̶͝t͡ó̷p҉ ̢͡͠run͞n̴̴͢i̵̧ņǵ,̀ ̕̕͡y͘̕͝ou̕'̷͡l̷l̸ ͏͟onĺ̵̨y͝͠ d͟i̢͏̀e͏̶̢ ̸̢t̴i͞͞ŗ͘͞ed͜.͜"̶̡ ̸́̕

Fabien whipped his head back at the noise, a blue object suddenly flew straight at him and he ducked instinctively. The object impacted on a tree in front of him, making a meaty thud.

As Fabien looked down at it, his chest tightened in fear; the head of the asari he was just talking about stared back, face forever expressing terror.

"̡҉͢Ą̴͢re̵̕͟n'̸̀͜t̷͝ ͘͟y͞ou̴ ́f̷̨҉o̸r͘͢ge͏͠t͞ti̵̸n͞g҉̨͝ ͏̶s͘ó҉m͞e͟ó̧̕n̡҉è͞?͡͠"̵ Fabien's hunter said, its geth-like chirping grating on his ears.

Fabien turned to see the hunter standing on a tree branch. In its grasp was the limp body of the asari, purple blood spurting out of her stump of a neck like a water faucet, staining herself and her killer.

Fabien clench a fist, furious at how his hunter seemed to taunt him with his friend. He blinked when he saw a collection of small discs on the dead asari's belt.

Grenades. High Explosive grenades.

Activating his omni-tool, he flicked his arm towards the body. An Incinerate was launched at the belt of grenades, causing a huge explosion that engulfed both asari and hunter.

The resulting inferno and shockwave threw up a smoke cloud, as the heat set a torched some of the nearby shrubs before being put out from the torrent of rain. Fabien fell to his knees, sinking slightly into the mud, as he relaxed.

The fear finally over as he took a deep breath, now he resolved to try and make it to the other outposts. Just as he turned, he heard a sound emit from the cloud.

"Th҉̡a̴͜҉t̷ ̴w҉̷͘as͏n̶'̧t͞ v̨̀͜e͢͝r̵y̵ ̸́n̵ic̛e̴͟͝.̛͘" he heard as two blue circles lit up and shined in the black smoke.

He barely reacted before a form suddenly ran out of the dust cloud. Something sharp pierced the man's stomach and Fabien was lifted off the ground.

He was nose-to-nose with the monster hunting him. Its blue optics glowed menacingly, as one was chipped. A giant hose connecting its mouth to its chest and it's rust coloured body, the rain washing some of the purplish blood and meat chunks from the asari off it.

Fabien tried to beg for mercy or to curse it. However blood gurgled out as he tried to speak, his vision dimming.

"͡T̷̷h̡͝e͏̛͟ ̨o͡m̕͞n̷i̛s͞s҉ia͏h̕͜ ͘͝pàs͢͡ś̴͠e̵̴s̨͝ ͏j̴͟͠u͟҉dge̴m̕è̴͞nt o̷͝n̸ ͢͟t̴̛̀h̢҉ơ̕s̷̕e̷̵͞ ̵̵̧w͘ho ͟be̶tr͢a͘͟y̡ ḩ̶͜įm,͏" it spoke some unknown language, before slamming Fabien down hard on the ground.

The last thing Fabien saw before blacking out was the hunter kneeling before him, its claws inching towards his face.

* * *

Shepard and company turned their guns at the sound of the explosion.

"You think that's the Eclipse?" Jacob asked.

"Could be. Let's go," Shepard answered.

Nearing to where the explosion occurred, Shepard did a hand gesture towards the others, signaling them to move in. Both moved forward to the other side, Shepard taking the middle.

All paused upon seeing the macabre sight of a human in Eclipse armor, torn to shreds at the base of a tree. Blood and rainwater was pooling beneath him, as well as being splattered everywhere around him.

"I wouldn't want to meet the thing that did this." Jacob blanched.

Shepard strained her eyes and ears, alert for anything that could perhaps give signs of anything watching or moving towards them. She noticed nothing so far, but she had a gut feeling that something was here and watching them.

"Whatever it was, it must have sharp claws. It looks like he was shoved in a paper shredder." She remarked.

Miranda looked on the ground, noticing something. "I think we have a clue as to what happened here." She swallowed a bit at the sight of a blue bruised head. "This cut on the neck, it's too clean to have come from an animal. And it's not from a omni-blade, the neck would've been cauterized from the heat of the blade."

"As interesting as this is, let's move on. Keep your eyes and ears peeled, we don't know what we're dealing with here but I don't want to stay here and find out." Leading the way as the others fell in behind her, towards the Eclipse base and approaching a bush.

However before she managed to get close enough. She stumbled as a shockwave hit her from behind. Turning her head, she stared open mouthed as what seemed to be a giant cloud of smoke coming from the direct opposite direction of the Eclipse base.

"I think that might have been this 'Rickert' we've been hearing about." Miranda said as she saw the loud column of smoke going up in the distance, eyes wide with surprise.

"Think that might've been nuclear?" Jacob asked as he stared. "That seemed awfully close to us and really big."

"If a nuke was that close to us, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Miranda replied, as she looked also. "What should we do?" She asked in a curious tone.

"… What we came here to do. If 'Alston' had this much munitions to start world wars three to ten, I don't think we could even confront him with three rifles."

* * *

"Alston Rickert… Please explain why I hear a giant explosion." A metallic tone requested like an upset parent, from the vox set built into the front of the taurox. Said taurox was following behind another taurox. The lead Taurox had a trooper dangerously leaning out the window, holding a antenna with a firm grip, pointing it seemingly random directions while being berated by the vox man behind him.

The two-car column was driving over the rough terrain of tree roots and knocking or running over any greenery in its way towards the supposed direction of the Tau base at erratic speeds.

Both vehicles were filled to the brim with guardsmen, all complaining about the tight spaces and about the drivers' skill behind the wheel, and the occasional sound of flak helmets hitting the ceiling.

Those unable to fit inside had to unfortunately resort to holding desperately to whatever they can on the APC: gun turret, bars, even the hatch handle, with terrified expressions. The tree branches bore no sympathy, only cuts and bruises. It reminded them of grox-riding. Highly stupid and suicidal considering that grox's were five metres long reptiles that were heavily muscled and incredibly aggressive/violent.

I took the vox mic from the shaking mount. Looking out the window as I watched the greenery fly by and what looked to be the leg of a man hanging on the roof of the APC, swinging by my window like a windshield wiper.

"That was me doing 'rapid' asset denial, Francis." I replied as my body, the driver's and everyone else's crammed in here and outside shook from the vibration.

"Were you attacked?" asking worriedly.

"No." I responded, as the truck in front knocked over a small tree and paused. Turning left and resumed on it's rampage, as it ran over a log.

"… Was it to make a distraction?" the mechanical voice questioned skeptically.

"No… and yes. I also really gotta congratulate the boys about that magnificent job by the way" I replied calmly to the shrieking voice. The men behind me gave a few chuckles, they really did enjoy setting up all those det-packs.

"You just wanted to blow something up, didn't you?" The voice sighed.

"Not really, that was more of a bonus. I was moving and I didn't want to leave any evidence behind after moving.." The chuckling behind me continued as I said that.

"Except a crater," Francis deadpanned before perking up. "How long do you think it'll be before you get here?"

I was about to reply before the vehicle suddenly bumped up more violently than usual, switching quickly to another channel. I call the lead taurox, "What was that, Colonel Nes?"

"I think we hit something when we ran over that bush back there. Should we stop?" he replied back.

"No, carry on." I switched back to Magos Nokia's channel.

Must've hit a nasty stump again, I thought to myself.

"I think I forgot to account for falling debris; one just died."

"Pity; Anyways, I'm not sure. The vox man is having someone lean out the window and wave an antenna around to try and pick which direction the signal is strongest. So far I think we're making good headway, judging from the lack of zigzagging through the local foliage."

"I need a timeframe. Like, how many minutes might it take you to reach me?" Francis demanded.

"Well, if I had better equipment, an actual map or even a direction. You might actually get a timeframe." I retorted. "Judging by the fact that you saw the explosion, I'm guessing I am close enough to you somewhat."

"Alright, see you whenever." The eyeroll was audible

"Affirmative" I replied back cheerily, as I took a sip out of my flask.

God, that tastes terrible.

* * *

Ignoring the spectacle that was the growing mushroom cloud in the distance, Ranger-59001 laid prone on the roof of a barracks, her arquebus propped as she panned it across the horizon, ready to bring the Omnissiah judgement on those who oppose Him.

She and the other Rangers had finished assisting the Magos in the Quest for Knowledge, stripping the bodies of the tau and the traitor humans and burning them as they deserved. Their 'omni-tools' and equipment sent to the Magos for his research.

Which reminded 59001 of this repurposed 'shield belt' she now wore. The Magos had distributed this gear to all six Skitarii still at the base, herself included.

The device apparently was an inferior xeno version of a conversion field, however it was only able to stop kinetic damage. She felt disgusted with having to use it and would've destroyed it, but it was it sanctified by the Magos. That and he 'insisted' on it, believing that another layer of defense will help should they come under fire.

It was a shame that the Magos wanted to let that tau women live. She would only be good for being a Servitor. Though it was not her call, only the Magos could make that decision.

A bit of movement in the distance. Ranger-59001 focused on it immediately, bringing her gun's iron sights to bear and zooming in with her optics.

Three humans. Two females and one male. Their armor was similar to the the Tau, not as bulky as carapace or flak armor.

Calculations for wind direction and speed, bullet drop, weather effects and more were being reviewed to give Ranger-59001 the best place to put her iron sights to ensure a kill shot at centermass. She ran the numbers again, she noticed a small error with the 7th variable. The shot would've been less than a centimeter off to the right. The error was fixed.

The place found, she sighted the leader of the trio's heart, she put her finger on the trigger and started pulling slowly; there was no rush. Her calculations were triple checked. No adjustment needed.

As her finger inched closer, she mentally simulated how the shot will go. The leader would simply burst into metal and meat from the waist up, painting gore on the other two. Most likely one would panic from being covered in human bits or be dazed at the sudden death of someone. 59001 would then shoot the other woman, letting the last one live—

[Stop!] Roared a command. Ranger-59001 froze her whole being, her finger just ounces away from making the arquebus bark, announcing the destruction of one human. [Do not engage them. As a matter of fact, hide. I shall deal with them.]

Ranger-59001 glowered at the orders, she was so close! She let go of the trigger before sliding off the roof, marking the three humans for everyone else to know where they were. There better be some combat soon; A single, lumbering mech and few Tau were not enough to satiate her trigger finger.

* * *

"Where are the bodies?" Was the first question Shepard asked after a minute of exploring the base.

There was a battle here. A recent one.

The last remnants of blood tinted the water before being washed away under the rain. Some of the building had toppled over, while one had its roof caved by a cut down watchtower. Large uneven circular holes dotting the walls, areas and makeshift barricades.

Jacob had inspected a few of these holes, but he was as clueless as to what weapons did this. The edges of the circle displaying signs of extreme heat and those on the ground seemed to have 'glassified' the mud partially.

"Look up ahead, I think I see something." Jacob pointed down the path a bit, towards what seemed to be a warehouse. A gaping wall in the side and what seemed to be a YMIR mech jammed into a nearby building.

The three Cerberus operatives walked towards the mech, eager for answers and wary of danger, The base was quiet, besides the sound of rain.

"Maybe this can tell us happened here," Shepard said as she pulled up her omni-tool and started hacking the mech. Once in, she examined its logs for the last of its video footage.

The first thing she saw was a helmeted man with his head down and right hand on the mech He was speaking, but it was so distorted it sounded like a volus in a blender—Best leave that moment unrecalled. He lifted his head, and Shepard did a double take at his face. Two large lenses acted as eyes while a curtain of tubes connected from where his mouth should be to his chest. She noticed two others behind this… whatever this guy is, watching out for threats. The being lowered its hand, seemingly finished as the YMIR's head suddenly turned to the right, before readying its weapons and smashed through the thin metal wall.

"You shouldn't have come here."

A mechanical voice sounded towards them from inside the YMIR shaped hole, all three of them aimed their guns towards it as a form approached them.

When they saw what addressed them, their mouths were left open in wonder and surprise.

What looked to be a large man wearing a gas mask walked out into the rain from the hole. He was dressed like a chaplain she once knew. This person here was in a rather thick, purple hooded cloak trimmed in white. His face had a similar tube-beard as the person in the vid, but had three lenses for eyes. Two on the right in a top-bottom configuration, and one on the right that seemed to jut out a bit.

"What makes you say that? Are we trespassing on your holy grounds?" Jacob asked, half joking.

"No, but this is now the domain of the Adeptus Mechanicus. I must ask you to leave," the man requested in a mechanical tone.

"Who is the Adeptus Mechanicus? And who are you and what happened here?" Shepard asked, all of their guns aimed at the approaching figure as they walked out the hole. She noted that the man had a bit of a hunch in his back, yet his walk was unhindered by it.

The figure stopped midway towards them, and responded. "There is no truth in flesh, only betrayal. There is no strength in flesh, only weakness. There is no constancy in flesh, only decay. There is no cert—"

"Okay, we get it. You're religious and you love metal," Shepard interrupted. "That still doesn't answer my other two questions and barely my first one."

"Did you do all this?" Miranda asked, curiosity at the wide array of destruction unleashed earlier. However she kept her aim at the mech, alongside Jacob who was clenching his rifle tightly in agitation.

"Yes. As for your first question, the Adeptus Mechanicus is an organization dedicated to the

Omnissiah, bestower of all knowledge and technology in the universe." He paused and then continued. "For your second, I am the Magos, the current head of the Adeptus Mechanicus. I am known as Nokia, but you shall address as 'Magos' or 'Magos Nokia'. For the third, I have taken this base for my own reasons."

"You know of this 'Adeptus Mechanicus', Miranda? Sounds like something up Cerberus' alley." Shepard whispered to her.

"No, Cerberus has heard nothing about this. Neither have any of my sources, pretty sure we would've noticed a group with that name… Or its belief and firepower." she whispered back.

"What reasons?" Jacob asked the 'Magos'.

"I am not part of this… Citadel. I simply needed somewhere to establish a colony for my people in this section of space. This planet was uninhabited and well within the needed parameters the last time it was surveyed. Yet I return to find it settled in."

"So this is a first contact?" Shepard questioned, noticing that he was speaking a language her omni-tool recognized and as something popped up in her mind. "because you seem to be fluent in English. And judging from your earlier transmissions… you already knew some English beforehand."

"The first part of that question was only capable thanks to what I recovered from these." He reached beneath his robes and pulled out an omni-tool. "These 'Omni-tools' are interesting devices. A cogitator condensed to a wristband, rather similar but different then those used by the Scions. I have merely downloaded those language files on my own machinery." He then paused, "However, I can not explain the second part. For I do not know."

"I see that you have not shot me yet, so please, lower your weapons. I mean you no harm. If I did," The Magos made a sort of chirping noise, and the three Cerberus agents did a double take; it sounded too much like a geth. "You wouldn't have noticed yourselves dying."

Miranda noticed movement on the rooftops surrounding them, realising that figures have emerged wearing similar purple hooded cloaks, wielding what looked like long guns from the 20th century. One seemed to be aiming at her with a gun almost 1.5 times the length of the shooter.

Miranda gave that person a look. A very dubious look.

A familiar looking person moving out from a door across from Shepard and her group. Its glowing blue optics just staring at her, as if daring her to fire a shot, while its robotic hands were grasping a strange looking gun on its waist.

"Don't tick these guys off, Shepard. We don't know anything about them, but they may be able to help us with our 'problem'."

Shepard lowered her gun alongside all the others, tentatively. "What are your goals now? We only arrived to recover a mech from the Eclipse. The people that owned this base previously."

"The Eclipse? Was that their true designation? They bare a remarkable resemblance to species we are often at war with." He said this with growing ire. "Especially the blue ones."

Shepard and Jacob looked at each other in confusion, Miranda deciding to take advantage spoke up, "Greetings, Magos Nokia. I am Miranda Lawson." then gesturing at Shepard and Jacob. "This is Commander Cassidy Shepard and Jacob Taylor. We are a part of Cerberus, an organization dedicated to the advancement of humanity and its interests. I would like to establish formal relations with you and your species."

Shepard was about to say something, before the Magos spoke first, seemingly uninterested in what Miranda had to say.

"You are here to recover a mech? There is no shortages of mechs here," He gestured behind him, at the warehouse where the mechs were stored. "Take one and begone. I am expecting to be busy here shortly."

"We're not here for those mechs." Shepard said, "We're looking for one that has a cockpit and is mannable. Has the diamond symbol you see on Miranda here." She gestured, the Magos simply stared at Miranda and then at Shepard. The former felt uneasy from his unblinking gaze.

"Ah, yes, that one. Follow me." He beckoned, and they reluctantly followed. The 'Mechanicus' watching them simply maintained their distance as they too followed. The fact that they moved in unison silently in a mechanical manner, made them feel uneasy. The ones on the rooftops simply followed them with their gaze.

With a chirp from the Magos, they all looked away and scan the horizon.

Soon they arriving at what seemed to be a the site of a heated battle. The mech they came to retrieve in a wrecked pile and what seemed to be a crab tank on its side with a giant gun, with large cables attaching it to a satellite dish on the nearby rooftops.

The Magos simply approached the fallen mech. "Is this what you seek?"

"Yes, however we can't move it in this condition." Shepard told him, "We're gonna need to get some tools for this."

She examined the mech, noting the distinct lack of both its arms and one of its leg and not to mention the large circular hole cut into the cockpit window.

"Your issue, not mine. I merely gave you what you wanted." The Magos looked back, "If you need tools, feel free to find them here or get your own. Just make it quick, I'm expecting company soon."

Shepard sighed, she just had to deal with another species that acted like assholes. Just like the batarians all over again.

"What company are you constantly referring to." Miranda asked, a bit agitated.

Right when she said that, a thunderous crack sounded. Startling all three of them as they quickly pulled out their guns.

A second later, a series of missiles flew into the base. One hitting the tank directly, causing a large and violent explosion that knocked the four off their feet. A few more impacted some of the surrounding buildings and another directly on one of the rooftop soldiers, launching him off the roof and into another building. That building got a missile shortly after and collapsed inwards.

A small fleet of yellow shuttles and gunships flew into the base. The gunships hovered, firing missiles and cannon fire on the rooftops, while the others simply dropped off waves of LOKI mechs and Eclipse troopers, a YMIR mech leading the charge as it fired its cannon.

"Not these guys." He said angrily, before he started to make urgent chirps. The Mechanicus soldiers were already in motion, firing with pinpoint accuracy at at the incoming horde of Eclipse mechs. Their 'antique' rifle muzzle flashed with electricity, the impact their bullets made looking like disruptor rounds on steroids. Those who were too close to fire engaged with their close range weapons, hacking limbs both robotic and biological in a berserker-like fury.

The Magos pulled out an oversized revolver from within his robes, firing a few white spheres at a unwary trooper. The spheres stuck to her chest and melted their way inwards. The trooper desperately tried to remove it, her screams reaching a high pitch as the armor melted and flash cooked.

"Definitely not these guys." the Magos growled.


	6. General discussion

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

"Hurry—Tau are—ce. Psykers, Batt—nes everywhere!" the vox barked out in a scrambled tone.

The tension is felt in the Taurox as the small convoy stopped near the tree line, a rocky field a distance from us and what seemed to be a outpost of sorts under fire.

The distant sounds of explosions and what sounded to be the cracking of arc rifles, alongside what may perhaps be the sound of Tau pulse rifles. A swarm of yellow aircraft circled the base.

"Repeat, We are on route. Detail numbers of enemy and prepare to pull back. ETA three minutes." I yelled into the Vox, hoping that he receives this. Sticking my arm out the window, I gestured for them to prepare for a fight, which mainly consisted of me yelling "Get ready to fight!" and gesturing rudely.

As soon as I stuck my head out, I saw movement in the bushes. Luckily the turrets gunners noticed this and swiveled their auto cannons on top of the vehicle at the source. The few guardsmen at the firing ports aimed their lasguns out, waiting for a target to reveal themselves.

A form I was familiar with emerged from the greenery.

A purple coloured body. A gas mask shaped head with two large optics and a large hose connecting to its chest, armed with what seemed to be two swords.

I sighed in relief, as I realize that this must've been one of the Ruststalkers Francis sent out to hunt stragglers. A few more emerged behind this one, totaling up to four.

"Skitarii! I am here to reinforce your Magos! Which direction is it to your base? The Magos is in danger from the Tau." I yelled out, hoping that it was capable of speaking in Low Gothic.

* * *

"Repeat, —on route. Detail nu— enemy and —to pull back. ETA t— minutes." my vox echoed in my head. The message scrambled due to those gunships destroying the only thing keeping the signal clear.

This battle was as one sided as it could be. They have numbers, heavy weapons, air support and specialized units. The only reason that I haven't been simply overwhelmed was because I activated one of the Protector Imperatives, increasing the accuracy of my Skitarii by a substantial degree. Even though this status buff will last only a few minutes, the effects were well worth it. As the enemy was forced to slow their advance to a crawl from the devastating fire.

There was a catch to this accuracy, though. The Protector Imperatives would bolster the targeting routine programs by rerouting power from its close quarter ones, meaning if a Skitarii ended up getting in a fist fight, he'll be unable to react fast enough.

This was shown when a pack of four remote controlled dog mechs rushed a Ranger and proceeded to pile on him, sparks of electricity flaring up from their tasers. I knew that using electricity on a Skitarii would be as effective as water on a duck's back, until a missle from the YMIR mech blew them all to chunks.

Ping. 139/300 points. Three Rangers remain out of the original five and in our current situation, every loss was devastating.

All I can do to stay alive at this point is to wear down the Eclipse and buy time, leading them down into chokepoints or using what little buildings still standing as cover. At least until the rest of my Skitarii or Alston gets here.

Speaking of buildings… "Everyone, circle to the warehouse! We'll make a defense there." I ordered my Rangers and Alpha-01. One of my mechadendrites fired its built-in lasgun as it emerged from my robes, a light blue beam ionizing the air with a crack and striking a salarian's head, flashing-frying it in a puff of smoke as the body fell over.

"Is that a a laser?" Shepard screamed in surprise, after blowing away the head of a mech. Ducking into cover afterwards, as she moved back. Miranda and Jacob providing covering fire alongside a few of the Rangers. The arquebus armed ranger providing incentive for the gunships to back off, as a shot knocked one from the sky forcing it to collide into a group of mechs.

"Yes." I answered absently, darting to a different building, suppressing with my phosphor revolver and lasgun, the latter scoring headshots with every crack.

We moved quickly amidst the hail and explosions. Shepard and their group got through unscathed, while the Rangers were not. Unwilling and unable to go in cover to maintain their constant suppression, lest they are overwhelmed. The sand grain rounds from the attackers doing minor damage to their armor; the damage slowly added up as dents and in some cases punctures began to show.

Luckily with sheer persistence, we made it to the warehouse and locked the door behind us. It was missed by the initial attack, or they didn't get enough missiles off. All eight of us hunkered down, covering the entrance, crouched behind whatever cover was available. Ready to unlea—there's that giant hole in the wall. I redirected my guys at that wall.

"Why did you lead us here?" Miranda asked as she hid behind a crate.

"To even the odds," I answered, approaching a series of large shipping crates. Seeing what might be a holographic keypad glowing red, I touched it, muttering a machine-psalm, and it unlocked, the glow turning green. The doors opened, revealing a stack of LOKI mechs all curled in fetal positions. I looked over my left shoulder at Shepard, ignoring her stunned eyes behind her helmet's visor, "Shepard, I need you to distract them. Rangers, get me the boxes we shoved those tau in."

* * *

 _Just who the hell are these humans_? Awol Fulon asked himself, slack jawed at the casualties they had accumulated over the course of the battle. Whoever these humans were, they knew how to shoot, each corpse and mech he passed had the top half of their head blown off

They also possessed a krogan's bastard version of the widow anti-material rifle. He gave a quick look at the interior of the crashed shuttle he was using as cover. The shot pierced the windshield and exploded the entire body of the pilot, the walls painted with flames.

It smelt like burnt meat to the salarian. Peering his head slightly over the cover, he saw the warehouse that the humans have retreated to. Looking carefully through the giant gaping hole in the wall, he could make out the blue optic of one of those purple robed humans, it was staring at him. He put his head down quickly, lest it not exist anymore like the last person that peeked.

He didn't know how they were discovered, nor why they would attack them. This was a backwater planet in the middle of nowhere, with only a small garrison. But having seen the black diamond marking of Cerberus on a few of the humans' armor, he had a suspicion of what their reason is, having raided a cargo transport of theirs a few days prior.

Awol should probably take lead now. His captain was lying down among the ten bodies behind him, Including his replacement and the replacement for that replacement. So that technically leaves him as the senior ranking one, or the only surviving one.

He gestured for the engineer near him to pause the mechs, as he opened the speaker function on his omni-tool. "You're surrounded. Surrender and I promise to let you live. We only want the asari you captured."

 _I never said anything about the others._ He chuckled, the higher ups would want their heads to send Cerberus a message.

"Who is she to you?" One poked her head out to ask.

He was tempted to tell someone to take the shot. However he had to at least show a effort to recover her for records sake… and to cement yet another promotion.

"She is one of the only commanders we have left on planet," The salarian admitted. "It would be a shame if you killed yet another one. So I can't let you do that and if you surrender and give her to us, I'll let you live."

"Tempting, but I'll pass. It's been two years since I laid eyes on an asari, and I gotta say… She's looking mighty tempting right about now."

"What?" was his only response, his face set in confusion. He expected either a witty retort, a denial, some kind of deal or even perhaps an actual surrender.

His face however, soon dawned in realization. Cerberus must have hired some retarded or crazy ones to do this job. No one in their right mind would attack them otherwise.

"You heard me, being in a coma for seven hundred thirty days has left a certain itch needing to be scratch." The woman sounded a bit feverish

Awol sighed, he thought to himself that he just had to deal with another crazy human.

 _Oh well, at least I tried something_.

He looked over at the engineer, who happened to be an asari. She shared a perturbed look. "Send in the me-"

"Wait," a somewhat electronic voice sounded, "I am sending her out.". Some muffled noises of surprise and an argument sounded from the female voice and a male voice, before being cut off.

A form soon appeared in the shadow of the hole.

The outline of mech with a dome shaped head stood out, its blue optics staring directly at him. In one of its hand was a yellow armoured form, his legs twisted and bent in multiple angles, one of the arm seems to be missing.

It twisted the neck with a sickening crack, despite the armour's neck brace. It swung the body back like a pole and chucked it.

It landed midway.

Awol looked at the deceased body with a shocked face, alongside all of the other Eclipse personnel at this case of brutality. He noted that it was an engineer armor and not to mention the fact that the body was that of a human.

"That's not her." he said, still staring at the surprised tone. His mind not processing what just happened.

"I apologize, I cannot tell the difference between one Tau and another,." the form flippantly said before moving back into the shadows.

The engineer next to Awol looked confused, "What in the Goddess is a 'Ta-"

A loud crack sounded, discernible even with the pouring rain and then another form flew out from the hole, landing on top of the dead engineer. The blue head simply flopping down at a disturbing angle.

"Their we go, correction made." The voice seemed satisfied now.

He stared surprised, before shrugging mentally. They just made his job easier,

Looking at the asari engineer next to him, "Prepare to send in the me-"

 _Vrrrrr_

"What is that noise?" he asked, perking up at the sound, peering back at the warehouse. Nothing changed.

 _VRRRR_

The sound was even louder, seemingly echoing throughout the whole base. He radioed one of the gunships above him. "Syndi, What's making that noise?"

"I don't know. Wait, I see something approaching from be—" She was cut off, when a series of loud thumping sounds echoed. The gunship armor crumpling inwards from multiple hits with a sick groan and it spun out of control, crashing towards the ground in a wreck and carving a trench.

"Contacts, behind uh—" Awol never finished. As he turned behind, he saw the sight of what seemed to be a large metal grill of a vehicle before he felt a lot of pain.

* * *

Shepard had seem a lot of things in her life. From the death of a ancient civilization, to the Thorian and Rachni, giant robot cuttlefish and now a new species with a laser tentacle of all things.

However when she peered over her cover, she did not expect to see a bastard truck version of a Tomkah on treads slam into the salarian, driving over the crashed shuttle and then ramming the YMIR mech from behind into a building. As overhead, the few remaining shuttles and gunships remaining in the air tried to flee, only to be hit by some distant thudding gun. They quickly fell, the shells puncturing through the barrier and armor.

The rear of the vehicle opened up and out ran purple robots wielding swords, their heads resembling gas masks from world war one.

Their blades were devastating, the armor being as effective as wet cardboard. However a few of the Eclipse reacted to this quickly, a few glowed blue and raised their glowing hand up. A blue energy surrounded the robots, lifting them up and rendering them helpless. The LOKIs and troops opened fire on mass, the sheer weight of gunfire ripping one to pieces.

The 'mechanicus' around Shepard opened fire, aiming to kill or at least distract the asari commandos. Their shots impacting on the biotic Wall erected by the other commandos.

Shepard took aim with her mattock rifle, sighting the head of the asari doing the Lift. ' _If these guys were against Eclipse…_ ', she thought as she pulled the trigger, the gun made a small crack

The head and helmet exploded in a steaming explosion. The asari maintaining the Wall dropped it as they stared aghast at the damage. This was proven to be a mistake, when their heads were shot by the Rangers.

She stared at her rifle. She was not aware that the Mattock was this devastating. The Rangers continued to fire regardless.

A yell soon sounded from the vehicle, turning her head back to it. She sighted what seemed to be a small group of blue armoured humans, lacking any recognizable equipment and armed with a large, bulky, bayoneted rifle of sorts, exiting quickly. One of them had his rifle raised at where the asari was once was.

Switching his target to a nearby LOKI, and with a crack, fired a red beam. The beam sizzled in the air before hitting the mech and burning through its ceramic armor and out the other side. Sending it into a crumpled heap as it fell.

The man gave a cry of something in an unknown tongue before firing again at another target, his face contorted with rage and hate. His friends encouraged by this, as they quickly moved forward taking cover. Their guns flashing in beams as it was unleashed towards the Eclipse. Ignoring the kinetic barriers of their hosts, separating limbs and carving holes.

' _This is disturbing'_ She thought, Humans with laser weapons. Weapons that were deemed impossible by the Citadel on a infantry scale. Now there was a squad armed with them.

The Eclipse and their mechs returned fire. Some of these men went down, as it looked like they didn't have any shields of their own. Some men that got hit stood back up and advanced, their armor dented. One of the men aimed a bulky gun with a with ridiculously wide barrel and a drum magazine upwards. The weapon thumped, and something exploded alongside a pair of troopers in cover. Scattering and disorienting them, before they were cut down.

An asari stood up behind cover and threw a blue orb towards one of the men. He didn't notice it explode on him and engulfed him in a blue flame. As the inflamed man screamed in pain, those near him turned their guns on him and opened fire. The man was a broken pile of smoking meat and metal when they were done.

His friends adopted a panicked look as they hunkered low in cover, one screamed something over and over again as he pressed something on his ear. The Eclipse sensing this moved forwards, hoping to overwhelm the dwindling number of men and purple robots.

However, they were soon attacked from the rear. Lines of red beams hit the Eclipse soldiers from the back, with explosions scattering groups. A loud yell was heard and a wave of similar looking humans in blue armor charged towards the once again surprised Eclipse, firing their weapons at the hip, bracing to stab with their bayonets.

All of them were led by a man waving a giant flag in the air. Shepard examined the flag with her vision, noting the image of a two headed bird over what seemed to be some waves and a unknown language beneath it.

The impact was devastating as the men collided with the Eclipse. The bayonets pierced through the ceramic plating and armor easily. This charge was the straw that broke the elcors back. The mechs were unable to respond to this, the engineer controlling them being stabbed repeatedly by two of the humans without mercy as she cried out.

"Should we stop them?" Jacob said as he looked at Miranda and Shepard, his face disturbed at the sheer violence.

One of the asari tried doing a biotic attack while running away, her body glowing blue. Only to be honed in on immediately by a bunch of men wielding what Shepard now sure were grenade launchers. They didn't stop even she was in pieces, resolving to destroy all traces of her existence. A crater was her gravestone.

"You can try, but I don't think they'll listen, Jacob." Miranda said before looking at the 'mechanicus' around them. "They don't seem to be shooting them, so I can assume that this is the company the magos was waiting for."

Once the last mech was destroyed, the survivors of the third party took aim at the warehouse.

"Or not." She rectified.

"No, they are. They're just paranoid and very cautious," the Magos said, exiting the shipping container. "That being said, follow me. I will talk to their leader."

He moved out towards the men outside, the 'mechanicus' walking behind him alongside Shepard and her group. They lowered their weapons at the sight of him, while The purple coloured robots gathered joined with the marching 'mechanicus'.

" _Where is your Lord General?"_ The magos blurted in that language of his.

One of them, a tall thin man with a old backpack radio of sorts on his back and rifle shouldered, approached gave a salute. _"He is with the other Taurox, we were sent forward to secure and assist you, Magos, while he provided anti-air support against the xeno craft."_ Shepard noted that the man spoke in the same language as the Magos, Miranda busy trying to record as much as possible for analysis.

The man switched to a parade rest stance, _"I can notify him that it's safe to approach now, if you wish"._

" _Do so."_ The Magos made a few chirps and his own squad ran off, swords humming and rifles shouldered.

" _Very well,"_ The man said, as he pulled out a radio receiver and pressed it. Whispering a few words into it before nodding after receiving a response. _"He will arrive shortly, my men have been ordered to assist you in securing the camp."_ The man moved away, as the group scattred into smaller teams and moved in seperate directions around the base. There laser weapons at the ready, with them stabbing the dead to ensure that they were actually dead.

A few of them went to the crashed vehicle, entering it and trying to back it out of the building.

"So what was that about?" Shepard asked, gun lowered as she stepped beside the priestly figure.

"Janitors." the Magos said. Shepard just gave a look along with Jacob, Miranda playing around with her omni tool discreetly.

Shortly later, a vehicle similar to the one lodged into a building arrived. Ignoring and driving over the bodies and wreckage. It stopped near the Magos and from one of the side hatches, a man emerged with thicker and bulkier looking armor, his hands holding a giant gun attached to a backpack of sorts and he disembarked to the left of the hatch. Another one, looking the same, disembarked to the right forming a sort of bodyguard for the last person as he got out.

This person Shepard thought was strange. A young man with Asiatic got out, his height rivaling the Magos as he walked towards them, his bodyguards fell behind him. He was wearing a fancy blue uniform with a breastplate featuring a two headed bird, a sword of all things on his waist alongside a bulky pistol.

The shocking part was the "thing" that following behind him. She looked horrified at what seemed to be a floating human skull with machine parts and tentacles flowing down from it. The letter V was engraved elaborately into the forehead.

However the other thing she noted in her horror was the glowing blue monocle over his left eye. The bulkiness of it made Shepard think it was a targeting visor.

But targeting visors don't imbed themselves into the person's head or jaw..

" _So… you've been busy,"_ The man looked at the surrounding buildings or what's left of them, the surrounding environment littered with debris and body parts, _"and you say that I'm the destructive one_."

She shook her head out of thought and paid attention, hoping to glimpse some kind of clue or hint.

" _Says the man who blew up his own base for fun."_ The Magos retorted

" _Like I said, asset_ _denial_ _. Besides we wouldn't have made here in time if we took the slow wa-"_ he replied, pausing when he noticed her. His blue optic looking at her, scrutinizing her and her squad. _"That's no Skiratrii unit, not even a Tau. I assume you've found some locals?"_

The man turned his head to her, _"Do you or your_ companions _understand me, ma'am?"_ he asked in Low Gothic. Shepard just cocked her head in a show of honest confusion, she only barely understood the word 'companions' but it was heavily accented to the point of near unrecognizability.

"I don't understand you." Shepard said in English, shaking her head. The man's right eye opened a bit.

" _I would advise against speaking in English. They consider me and mine a new species. I will explain in detail later, when it's just the two of us."_

" _And what would that make me? A new species of monkey?"_ The man asked in a jokingly manner.

"… _An offshoot of humans to say the least. But I will say this now, psykers are commonplace here, more than in the Imperium, but what I have encountered so far are only low to low-medium level psykers."_

" _I'll play, carry on."_ The man nodded, grimacing a bit at what he was told. She noticed that he was squeezing his sword. Whether he wanted to draw it or it was an action of self-control, Shepard did not know.

"Commander Shepard," The Magos turned to Shepard. "may I introduce you to Lord General Altson. He commands what is known as the _'Astra Militarum_ '. Or the 'Imperial Guard' in your tongue."

"Is he human?" Miranda asked, noting the incredibly human features of both the General and his guards.

The man in purple robes looks at her for a moment, then at the general, then back at her. "… The same can be asked of you."

Miranda had no response.

Just as Shepard was about to inquire a bit more about the General, a cry came up from the vehicle embedded in the building. Looking over she noted that something was pushing the vehicle outwards, lifting it slowly. The men inside quickly got out, just as it was landed on its side.

A YMIR mech marched out from the hole and upon seeing them, fired its cannon.

Everyone reacted. One of the bodyguards tackled the general to the ground, puting the truck between him and the YMIR while also covering him with his body. The other one opened fire with his gun, a large beam destroying the cannon arm. However it got a shot off, hitting him in the chest, knocking him off his feet and launching him a fair distance away.

The Magos and the Guards nearby moved to react, until they all noticed Shepard's squadmates starting to glow.

Miranda launched a Warp at the mech, bathing it in blue fire, as it's armor weakend. Jacob followed up quickly with a Throw, the orb hitting the flame creating an explosion that rocked the huge mech back a step. Shepard pressed a button on the side of her gun and a fire icon appeared on the side of the gun. She started shooting as fast as she could, and soon enough the mech was was engulfed in fire.

Reaching for the underside of her rifle to where a module rested. She pressed the trigger it had, and a carnage shot launched itself at the YMIR, causing a different but no less powerful explosion. It was at this point the Imperial Guards got out of their stupor and started pitching in.

The damaged mech lasted only seconds.

Satisfied that the threat was over, Shepard turned around, only to freeze at the sight of all the Guards aiming at Miranda and Jacob, their face twisted with hate and revulsion.

However, they all soon lowered their weapons when the Lord general gestured for them to lower it. _"We should probably have that ta-."_

 **Ping**

He was interrupted by a loud pinging sound coming from the skull behind him and from the Magos.

" _That was a mission also?"_

* * *

 ** _AN_** :We were bored again. Hence we bring a new chapter. Also Co-Author says hi and to review, don't make him sad.

 _Chapter Master Valric_ : We have some plans for him.

 _Freechimchangas_ : Thanks for the compliment, here have another "Cliff". Also we have no plans currently for pairings, Warthog music may come up but Im leaning for something a bit different.

 _ColonelStriker:_ Thanks, now look forward to this even more

 _John F Kennedy:_ That's called spoiling the story if I were to tell you. However we are currently planning something for the navy issue.

 _Seabo76_ : Yes, really.


	7. Proper Introduction

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Observation Room**

 **In Transit**

A man in dress blues sat on a couch, staring out the window that spanned an entire wall. Beside him was a man in purple robes, optics glowing underneath his hood as he did the same.

Sitting across from them on a chair was an old man in his forties, wearing a light blue robe as he faced both of them. His eyes were hidden behind a metal band as he gripped with both hands a staff, a symbol of a eye with wings on top, sweat slowly dripped down his forehead.

To those watching them, it would seem to be a few men just relaxing in the observation room, peering outside at the stars. However it was anything but that, as the old man was mediating a conversation between them with his 'gift'.

It had already been going on for the last hour, the old man putting considerable effort into it. A conversation via telepathy between two non-telepaths was the most secure method communication available. Which was needed as the topic of discussion was not something the two people didn't want to be heard, be it ear or microphone. The Magos was telling the Lord General a story of this universe, a long story since there was much to go over, from the technologies and the histories. Though the bulk of this story centered around a person named Shepard. The man had gone pale after the first thirty minutes, gripping his flask like a lifeline. Guards outside ensured that they weren't disturbed during this private meeting of the minds.

' _... and here we are. Though I can go in more detail about this universe. I would advise against doing that now, your Astropath must be exhausted'_ The Magos thought in Alston's head.

Alston sighed, taking a long swig. A generous amount poured down his throat, wincing at the powerful melting sensation that rotgut gave. _"So what's the actual reason you wanted me here with you, besides that spew back on the planet? I could've just stayed behind to organize the colonists instead of leaving the Col-, well Governor Nes behind."_

" _We'll that's gonna require another explanation,"_ The Magos added in, before looking at the sweating psyker. " _He should be good for little bit more."_

 _ **Flashback**_

" _So we're getting how many?"_ The Magos and Lord general yelled at "Fives", the Lord Generals servo skull and "Forzo" The Magos servo skull. Surprise at what they were just told.

Shepard and her group looked at the pair as they proceeded to what they think was argue with it. The 'guards' that were originally pointing their weapons at them having dispersed to secure the place and their dead, alongside the 'mechanicus' soldiers.

"That's just disturbing, Shepard." Jacob whispered silently.

"I agree, but be nice. We don't know if this is a custom of thiers." Miranda voiced.

" _About thirty colonists for each of you in the initial wave to set up a colony and an additional gift will be provided for your conquest and as compensation."_ Forzo said. Fives simply swayed in the air while the other simply stayed put. " _The Colony will provide you some "benefits"._ "

" _What compensation?"_ The Lord General asked, confusion on his face.

" _Conquest?"_ The Magos asked, the sound of humming electronics and sparks signalling his annoyance.

" _For leaving you two on the same planet. You were supposed to be on your own planets, however complications arose and you defeated the previous owners."_ The voices sounded a bit annoyed

" _What complications?"_ The Magos demanded.

" _Nothing you need to know about or would you rather not receive the gift?"_ The skulls just looked in his direction, daring him to ask.

" _Let's move on. There is no need to anger the servo skull, Nokia."_ The General put his shoulder on the Magos, before looking at the skulls. _"How big will this 'colony' get, do we have to supply them and what are these "benefits"?"_

" _It's small by normal 'Imperial' standards. Don't worry. They don't count towards your points, however this also means that their not supplied or under your system either. You'll have to support them when the time comes."_ Five stopped as he looked at Alston, " _One of the benefits is that you can now put your units on 'reserve' at anytime except in a warzone or a battle, instead of just waiting for them to die to clear up points. They'll be sent to this planet for now automatically and serve as additional manpower towards the colonies wellbeing and labour force. You will still be restricted to only summoning once a day, however."_

The Lord General sighed as he massaged his eyes, processing this information before walking off a nearby taurox to use its vox system. _"I'm going to the vox to make sure the colonists don't get shot. You deal with them."_ gesturing towards Shepard. Fives proceeded to follow the General as he climbed into the vehicle.

Shepard simply stared confused and looked slightly offended.

She approached the Magos, "So what were those skull things? And why were you arguing with them and where is he going?"

"Those are servo-skulls. They are tools used by our people for a variety of tasks." The Magos seemed to ponder a bit, "That conversation was us talking with some of the colonists that will arrive shortly and he is going to make sure they don't get shot."

"I see," Shepard was skeptical and disturbed, but she didn't want to push any further. Not yet anyways. She had to make sure these people get in contact with the Alliance or even the Citadel soon, rather than Cerberus. "You have my sympathies for the people you and the Lord General lost today." She said, just as the Magos turned to her.

"You have my thanks." The Magos nodded. "Your arrival gave me time to huddle my forces for a more organized defense. I will relay your sympathies to the Lord General. I assume condolences are not all you will give me."

Shepard nodded, "I know that this may not be the time, but I wanted to ask you about something."

"You may."

"I want your assistance in fighting the Collectors. They have been attacking and abducting entire human colonies in the Terminus. The Citadel council is unwilling to do anything about it and neither will the Systems Alliance. It is currently just my crew and our backer, Cerberus, that are trying to do something about them." Shepard said, when she mentioned Cerberus, it was in distaste.

"You speak as if I know what any of those terms are." He said like he couldn't care less. "Your friend explained what this Cerberus is, but that is the extent."

Shepard blinked at the Magos, realizing that she was dealing with a new species. "The Citadel is home to a council of species, the most powerful being asari, the salarians and the turians, and most recently us humans. Who are part of the Systems Alliance. Not including the Lord General and his people, if they are humans."

"What can you tell me of these three species?" He sounded both repulsed and intrigued.

"I can do you one better, If you can get that omni-tool you have working. I can send you the necessary information." Shepard said as she raised her right arm, her omni-tool activating. She secretly noted that the 'mechanicus' may be a bit xenophobic. Especially with recent events and his mentions of another species known as 'Tau', though that still would not explain his apparent familiarity to Alston and his people.

Mimicking her motion, his own 'tool turning on, Shepard put to together a multitude of folders, one for each species known in the Milky Way. Inside each folder contained copies of files ranging from the anatomy of a species all the way to its culture and history. Once the files were compiled, she made a gesture of 'tossing' them to him.

The Magos 'caught' the bundle, his omni-tool pinged in notice. The Magos immediately ripped his way through the files with his internal processors at incredible speeds, taking note of key information.

"… These have been a great source of knowledge," the Magos said in thanks. "But, these Collectors were not included in the files you gave me. Why is that?" Shepard stared at him: What she sent him was no quick read. It took him seconds to read terabytes of documents, which normally took hours, maybe a day straight.

"That's… because it is very scarce. All we know is they are known to exchange advanced technology for living beings, and now they're kidnapping humans by the colony." Shepard replied.

"Perhaps there's something about you humans that they can't get enough of."

Shepard glowered at him, not finding his joke funny at all. "Perhaps. But like I said, we don't know"

"What makes you think we will assist you on this quest? A colony of ours is being set up, we must oversee its construction." He asked, his head staring at her as if trying to gauge her response.

"Cerberus can provide you with resources and supplies to help it along." Miranda chipped in, she was eager to provide a good impression.

"Appreciated, but we can manage. These collectors have never faced the Children of the Omnissiah. We can take on these Collectors no matter how big their fleet"

She was getting frustrated at the unwillingness to see reason, until she remembered how the collectors attacked the colonists of Freedom's Progress. She turned to her executive officer. "Miranda, pull up the footage we got from Veetor." The woman did just that, a smile coming to her face as she realized was Cassidy was getting at. She stepped up to the Magos, and the video popped up on her omni-tool.

The man in purple robes peered at the vid, watching a swarm of buds descend a group of humans. They freaked and flail their arms to swat away the bugs, only to be frozen a moment later. Miranda fast forwarded a bit to after the swarm ran its course, to the Collectors moving the immovable colonists into pods before carting them away.

"… Is that its head or a helmet?" Was the first thing he asked after the video concluded.

Shepard opened her mouth to get back on topic, but stalled, now curious herself if their heads were really that big. She shook her head and fixed the Magos a hard stare.

"That's not important. You see how the Collectors conduct their raids. The bugs they use look big enough that their stingers can pierce armor and reach the skin. This colony was over nine hundred thousand strong, and in just a few hours," She snapped her fingers. "all gone. No struggle, no distress call, just gone. So, if that high a number can disappear, what chances does this colony have?" She finished, suddenly aware of the Magos staring at her. She could feel the gaze from his three optics….. and the stares of the various people around. Pausing in whatever they were doing.

The Lord General poked his head out from the vehicle's side hatch, his cybernetic eye focusing on both of them, curious at the commotion. _"What's going on? Did you do something stupid again?"_

"Alston, come see this. What this woman shows is relevant to us."

" _Fine, I'm coming. Also the colonist have arrived. They're being escorted by some guards."_ He climbed out of the vehicle and walked towards the Magos, Miranda started to play the video on a loop.

" _Are those helmets?"_ He looked at the Magos, confusion on his face as he stared.

" _That's what I said."_ The Magos deadpanned, then gestures to Shepard. _"We cannot defend our colony from them. And in saying that, you and I are not safe here."_

" _So what should we do? We have no ship and no way to leave, unless you want my Guardsmen to dig a hole to the center of the planet… I actually think they can do it. I've seen them dig through boulders with a shovel."_ Alston asked back.

The robed man turned his head to Shepard, then at Miranda and Jacob. "I believe I will accept your request to help you on your quest."

"You will?" Shepard was surprised at this sudden acceptance.

"Yes, but to help you, you will have to take me, the Lord General, and some of our retinue with you," the Magos proposed, "I believe that this shouldn't be too difficult on you."

"It's possible, but you will have to go through quarantine first. Who knows what pathogens you may have. Also, what about your colony? If you're with with us, wouldn't that leave your colony defenseless?"

"We have experience in colonizing planets, you need not worry. This matter you present us is more demanding of our attention. As compensation, you would have the complete backing of me and the Lord General's, Not to mention we'll lend you some of our technologies. The Lord General is also my only method of contacting the rest of our empire and he is highly placed within the ruling hierarchy. So it stands to reason that he comes along also for diplomatic purposes, would it not?"

"You raise valid points. Alright, I'll allow you and him to come aboard. But I'll have to restrict your retinue to no more than two men each." Shepard was thinking, she wanted to refuse but the offer of better weapons and tech to fight the collectors was a bit much.

The Magos repeated Shepards demand to the Lord General. He responded, glaring death to the Magos. " _I want a really good explanation for this later. However I want to bring no less than five men, I'll put the rest on 'reserve' to protect and organize the colonist. I can always summon more later."_

"What did he say?" Jacob asked curiously, aware that perhaps there might be something going on.

"He wants to bring five of his best men with him," The Magos translated to all of them.

"Tell him that I said only 'Two'." Shepard held up two fingers.

" _She says only—"_ The Magos was cut off.

" _I heard her, tell her 'Five'._ " The Lord General raised his hand at Shepard, outnumbering her fingers by three. He glared at Shepard. She glared back.

The Magos was about to translate before he was cut off once again.

"Two. Give me another number, and the two will only be you and him. Tell him that." Shepard voice left no room for argument. As amusing as this back-and-forth was, she was getting impatient; they had a scientist and a vigilante to recruit on Omega.

The Lord General was about to say something before he was cut off by the Magos, who proceeded to place his cybernetic hand in front of his face so fast he almost backhanded him. "He agrees to two." He then looked at Alston saying to him in a low, stern voice: " _I'll tell you this later, don't be stubborn."_

The Lord General narrowed his eyes. _"Fine."_

The Magos then looked at Shepard, "Give us a hour to prepare. Feel free to look around in the meantime, for what it's worth." The Magos dragged the Lord General off before he could argue to a large mob of people being herded towards them, the look of awe and worship once they caught sight of them, being led by guards and what looked to be a few men holding staffs.

Shepard looked up, as the skies began to quickly clear. She hailed the Normandy, the call proceeding clearly now that the interference has cleared up. "EDI, I'm gonna need you to send a shuttle in a hour… We got visitors."

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Observation Room**

 **In transit**

" _Okay, I see what your planning and you got my support to help Shepard. However I think we should head back with the others now. We've been gone for too long and we don't want them to be suspicious."_ Alston spoke out loud, putting his flask back in his uniform, as he got up from his seat. The Astropath followed suit and stood alongside the Lord General, sweat lined his brow as he supported himself with his staff.

" _Well, we are essentially dignitaries of our peo—"_

[Magos, there is a 'Yeoman' that bears a message for you and the Lord General.] Alfa-01 alerts through the Noosphere from his post outside our door.

[Let him or her pass.] I respond in kind.

The door split open to reveal a red headed figure as she walked in, approaching the trio of men. "Hello, my name is Kelly Chambers, the Normady's Yeoman. How are you two holding up?" she asked the two in a chipper voice. She looked at the Magos and the Lord General.

"What is a 'Yeoman'?" The Magos asked her.

"I'm the Commander's assistant, which involves notifying her of any emails she receives, I'm also the ship's counselor, so if you have any frustrations, about anything, please feel free to talk to me. I'm all ears."

"I will keep that in mind," The Magos said "So, please, take us to your leader."

"Sure." She said in a cheery fashion, as she turned around and walked out

" _She disturbs me with her happiness."_ The Lord General whispered to the astropath, the man nodded as they followed behind.

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Communications room**

 **Still in transit**

" _I think your a prat,"_ the Lord General said as he looked over at Shepard from his seat, giving her a smug grin. At the head of the table sat Shepard and her team alongside a few new additions, a old women and the cheery Kelly Chambers. While on the other end sat the Magos and the Lord General, their aides stood besides them.

"What did he say?" She squinted at the man with a built-in monocle, not liking the face he made.

"He said that this was a nice ship, albeit very small," the tech-priest lied. Shepard had a feeling that probably was a lie. She had enough of an impression of the Lord General on the planet that he was a dick by default

"Anyways, as I was saying. This is just a general meeting, we want to know more about you and vice versa. " Shepard continued, "and what and who is the Lord General and his people? The medical exams you reused but he volunteered for show that he's human, but at the same time, not."

" _I still feel violated."_ The General murmured, his two aides right behind him. A blindfolded old man with a staff and trooper 'Private'.

"How is he not human?" THe Magos asked in a warning tone, like she was questioning the supposed purity of the humans that made up the Imperial Guard… which was a difficult question to answer alone.

Good thing Chakwas was present for the meeting.

"Let's start with the biggest difference." the good doctor started as she pulled up a diagram of two humans in a T-pose. "The Lord General and his men seem to have a enlarged spleen, which seems to be a genetic trait, as all three of them seem to have it and they're are not related. I checked. Not to mention the high red blood cell count as opposed to a normal human and the genetic difference between the two."

The Magos gave a look in the Lord General's direction.

" _It makes some sense, I did make the home planet of my regiment to be an ocean world called Aquarius. So It'll stand to reason they can hold their breaths longer."_ He answered the look, as the put two and two together quickly.

"Such are the perks of hailing from an ocean world." The Magos translated to Chakwas, as she looked at the Magos

"What do you mean by 'ocean' world? You guys are part mermaids?" Shepard joked. Francis didn't bother translating the second question knowing Alston would insult her as soon as he could; he was sensitive like that.

"Ocean worlds are planets where the environment is a single, globe-straddling ocean, with perhaps only a few small archipelagos of islands serving as the only land masses if they're lucky." The Magos replied neutrally.

"That still doesn't explain these differences. Mankind has only been in space for roughly thirty years… and I don't think this is genetic engineering, there are no surgical scars present." Chawas stated, then her eyes zeroed in on the Magos, "Speaking of which, You have yet to let me examine you and your men."

"I'm afraid the most you can do in your examination is scans, as physical methods would be detrimental to my health. My armor contains components designed to keep me alive and well." The Magos replied back, "The same can be said of the people I lead, we rely on this and are unwilling to take it off. So, yes, scan us, but do no more."

Chakwas gave a stare, before taking a breath. "I understand, you are not the only species I know that relies on support equipment. Can you and your aides meet with me in the medical room after this meeting?"

"Certainly." He nodded. "Now, getting back to the differences between you and him. The Lord General and his people hail from the world of 'Aquarius' and have been isolated for many millennia, so the differe—"

"What?" was the collective shout of everyone

"What 'what'?"

"That's not possible, Humans evolved on Earth. There is no evidence that humans evolved elsewhere or that we even have a world called 'Aquarius'…. unless the protheans were involved." Miranda said, breaking the stunned looks of those around her.

"I am uncertain on that regard," The Magos looked at her, "I will not get into this now, as the story will take a few days to cover in detail. But, if you have a data storage device of sufficient size, I can send you a summarized version."

" _You better be giving them the 'kiddie' version,"_ the Lord General whispered to the Magos.

" _Light enough for a_ _baby_ _to understand_ ," the Magos assured

" _I mean light enough so that a baby won't be_ _traumatized_ _for all eternity after reading the first paragraph."_ The Lord General said, with a straight face.

"What did he say?" Shepard asked.

"He asked for me to include the history of his people as well. He believes you would like to hear it."

"Sure, that would be appreciated." Shepard wished that Liara was here. The would've gone crazy over this.

Before she can inquire about what technologies the Magos and the Lord General would lend. EDI popped up on the table. "I believe I have the storage space that you require."

" _By the THRONE!"_ The blindfolded old man by the Lord General yelled, before raising his staff at the hologram, the tip started to crackle slightly with electricity. Trooper Private, though unarmed, was about to tackle this surprised image thinking it was a threat. However both were gestured to stand down by the Lord General, who calmly sat where he was and pulled a flask from his uniform, taking quick chug before putting it back.

"Ooh, what is this? A machine spirit?" The Magos, as if to contrast the reactions of the Imperials, sounded delighted, leaning forward to get a closer look at EDI.

Jacob, confused as the rest of the crew over the freakouts, answered him. "This is the Normandy's artificial intelligence. We call her E—"

[They have an Abominable Intelligence! Kill it!] Ranger 59001 roared in Binary before diving at the hologram in a tackle. As it was a hologram, she phased right through it and ended up knocking her head against the inner edge of the table, leaving a dent.

Shepard and the group flinched at this sudden act of aggression, Miranda pulled a pistol from her waist and aimed towards the fallen Ranger. The infiltrator whipped his head at Miranda, uncoiling his sharp claws out of sight. The Lord General still had his hand up to ensure that his aides wouldn't interfere.

[Desist your hostilities, 59001,] the Magos admonished sternly, then looked to Shepard and spoke in English: "I apologize for her outburst, but upon reading our people's' history, you will understand why she acted the way she did." Miranda still kept the gun towards the Ranger as she got up and moved back to her original position.

[It not my intention to cause you distress,] EDI apologized.

* * *

 **AN:** Well we were bored again, now a word from the Co Author.

 **Co-Author:** We usually strive for a chapter a week, yet our jobs are scheduled differently and we work on this story only when we are both available. Hope you enjoyed this chappy.

 **AN:** And now back to me. Time for me to dig into the review pile.

 **Seabo76, Chaszcz, RoyalTwinFangs, John92:** Thanks

 **FreeChimchangas:** Maybe, no spoilers.

 **SalinorTheDrake:** In a way? maybe, but not entirely. No spoilers.

 **AN:** That is all, Please remember to review or ask questions.


	8. History Lesson

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

 **Normandy SV 2**

 **one day later…**

 **Communications room**

"Jacob, how is the armor and is it any good?" Shepard asked the Normandy's armorer. Shephards team and a few others gathered in the communications room for another impromptu meeting.

It had been over a day since EDI introduced herself to the newcomers onboard. Their reactions were understandable, yet extreme; one does not simply tackle a hologram of an AI unless the person has a massive grudge against against it. A thought of the woman tackling AVINA from the Citadel popped up, making Shepard snort.

"Everything is going good, commander. This 'Flak' armor as the Lord General called it, is quite something." Jacob pressed something on his omni tool, a hologram of a simple blue piece of armor hovered above the table next to EDI.

Jacob continued, "I know it doesn't look like much, but the armor is a lot more sophisticated than what you might think. From what the scans say, it's seems to be multiple thin layers made of ablative, thermoplast and impact absorbent materials. I have managed to identify what I think is some kind of carbon-fibre and a few others, but beyond that everything else is unknown and it also weighs lighter than it should be."

He pulled up a video of him firing a rifle at some two sets of armor propped against a wall in an improvised firing range. A set of medium cerberus armor and a set of armor.

"This armor does a better job than what we have." he said, as he skipped to the end. Inspecting the Cerberus armor, the damages was as expected. Without the kinetic barriers, the armor stood up to the first few rounds then the rest punched through the ceramic plating with ease. The Flak armor raised a few eyebrows when it's turn came up, the armor lasting longer as the rounds punched a series of dents before going through the weakend material.

"So, your saying that this armor of theirs can protect from energy and solid weapons?" Miranda inquired as she looked over the data, "And is it also possible for us to manufacture this or at least incorporate it into our hard suits?"

"From what I see, yes. Can't speak for energy weapons though. He's refused to lend us any for testing. Manufacture? I don't think so. The idea behind the construction is simple and basic and we can make a knockoff but it'll not have be as durable. It's the materials that it's made from thats the problem. We don't have anything like it or if we do, they got a better version of it."

He then continued, a quick pause. "However, he's willing to provide the team with more flak armor when he gets back in contact with his people and I'm sure I can incorporate some of the stuff into our medium or heavy armor for more protection." He finished.

"I guess that'll leave me next." Miranda addressed the group. "I tried doing a bit more of an examination into the language the Magos and the Lord General were speaking using the recordings I got back on the planet, with EDI's help and surprisingly, the Magos himself." A series characters appeared. Resembling someone mashing together hieroglyphics, Greek, Latin, and Asian letterings together and blended it.

"It bears some similarities to many languages from Earth, but it was untranslatable." She paused as she looked at her omni-tool. "Yet it wasn't a complete failure. We've managed to create a system where what they call 'Low Gothic', would be translated into English and from there be translated into other languages. Currently we've made enough progress that we can speak somewhat decently with the Lord General or his people without having to rely on the Magos to translate, once we get them some omni-tools and the implants installed after this meeting."

"That's good, it'll be nice to understand what the hell he's saying for once, I get the feeling that the Magos is covering for him." Shepard nodded.

"Now on to what the Magos provided us." Miranda sighed as she covered her face with both hands. "Despite him insisting that it's incredibly abridged, their history is lengthy to the point of making War and Peace look like a pamphlet. If it wasn't for EDI's help I would still be reading it now."

"There is an empire called the 'Imperium of Man', which the Lord General and the Magos hail from. Their leader is apparently a man that sits on a golden throne, known as the God Emperor or the Omnissiah. Said size of this Empire is unknown or not even listed. They both represent different branches of the Imperium."

"The Adeptus Mechanicus." Miranda then switched to a image half cog and head symbol. "This is a more interesting read but very brief, as if he wanted it to be overlooked or he's trying to hide something. In simple terms, it's a religion that formed, during something called 'Age of Strife', that worships technology with the goal of making themselves as efficient as machines themselves hence their 'cybernetics'. They are in the sense, the technological, scientific and industrial arm of the Imperium. Which makes them one of the people we should try to befriend the most.

"So they worship toasters?" Kelly asked, curiously.

She then switched to a different part of the document. This one detailing the double-headed eagle of theirs called an aquila, the head on the right was had no eyes while the left one had eyes, reminding Shepard of something she once saw in a history book. "The Lord General's history is abridged so much by the Magos that there wasn't much being said. He and his people hail from an ocean world called Aquarius living on what are basically enormous city-sized oil rigs, each dedicated to either fishing, underwater mining or algae farms. With the nobility occupying the only landmass on the entire planet."

Miranda gave a pause, before looking back at Shephard. "Here's an interesting bit. They apparently were isolated for a few millennia and was soon assimilated with the Imperium when they made contact. Now they pay a tithe every few years to the Imperium." She then highlighted a part of the text. "The tithe contains seafood, mineral exports and… people."

"We're dealing with an empire of slavers?" Shepard asked. She frowned a bit internally.

"What do they mean by 'assimilated'?" Jacob inquired also.

"Not sure for both of your questions. From what is stated they supply soldiers to the Imperial Guard, who are the main military arm of the Imperium. The Lord General and his fourth Aquarius regiment were among those sent," Miranda answered "While they made no mention of how they were 'assimilated', just that they were."

"What's this Imperial Guard, then? Sounds like a gaudy name for an army." Shepard voiced.

"In a simplified terms? They're the main force of the Imperium and are armed by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Leadership is similar yet complicated when compared to the System Alliance and if I'm correct. The Lord General is high up."

She then highlighted another excerpt. "Apparently the reason the Imperials and the Magos' aides tried to attack EDI was because they once had their own, more extreme version of the quarians' Morning War against their own AI called the 'Men of Iron' before the Imperium existed."

She showed a grainy photo of a humanoid robotic figure clearly built for war, saws and weapons on both arms, it's optics looking menacingly at the camera.

"Long story short and about twelve chapters of extremely vague history later, it shattered the government that existed before the Imperium in a genocidal war but were eventually defeated in a pyrrhic victory. Those who survived would call this time period the 'Dark Age of Technology', until they were united by this Emperor in what was called the 'Great Crusade'. Anymore information on this "Dark age of Technology" was incredibly sparse, but apparently it was when they were at the pinnacle of technological might and knowledge."

She then stared blank faced at everyone, as she let this fact sink in. "I still think that this was a story of sorts. Yet I at least have some reasons to belive that they may at least be older than Humanity's time in space, Commander. I took a few discrete scans back on the planet. The weapons those mechanicus were using? Scanners date a few of them back to man's first flight… in the early 1900's. The equipment of those guardsmen? Easily dates back to at least around the First Contact War.

Shepard just simply massaged her forehead, as she thought about this. She wasn't the only one in the room to do so. "Thank you, Miranda. Alright, what do you have for me, Chakwas?"

She stood up as she activated a image of the Magos, and looked straight at Shepard. "I actually had to consult with our engineers for this," she said with a straight face. "Each of them have no digestive nor sexual organs. They are fed intravenously judging by the tubes, have two cybernetic hearts, respirators built into their mouths, and their brain have been modified very extensively with cybernetics. My scans also managed to detect almost every element of the periodic table in each of them.

"The Magos and the one known as Alpha-oh one are the most modified. Their entire skeleton is humanoid and made of an unknown metallic alloy, various organs have been replaced with what I think are cybernetic equivalents and they have two hearts, both mechanical as well. The one that tried to tackle EDI is…" She pulled out the scans of the female. "better off, per se. Every limb is a prosthetic, the right arm up past the shoulder, the left to the elbow, and both legs at the knees. Her internal organs are the same as the Magos, albeit to a lesser extent, however their skeletal structure is similar to a human's."

Chakwas took a breath as she pulled up the brain scans of the Lord General or Alston as he calls himself and the old man, who she learned was named Ezek. "There was something that I noted and didn't want to bring up earlier, but I have found some unknown cybernetics attached to his internal organs and his brain is modified to a lesser degree when compared to the Magos. However it still takes up a decent portion of his brain though it may be related to that cybernetic eye, as it is directly connected. Another thing I noted was that he and Ezek had somewhat higher than normal brain activity. Though I don't think it might be because of the cybernetics in his brain, since Ezek had none whatsoever."

"Maybe they are geniuses?" Kelly suggested.

"I'll die again before I believe that guy is actually Albert Einstein reincarnated." Shepard stated, before wincing a tad at her own words. Even though she has been dead for two years, it felt like woke up from a full day or two of sleep. And let her tell you, being burned alive by atmospheric friction while suffocating from a broken oxygen tank was not an experience she would want to relive again. Pun not intended. "The Magos I could see. He's the more level-headed of the two from what I've seen or at least understood."

"On that I can agree," Chakwas said, "However I think that should be all I have, besides that they're all healthy from what I can tell."

Kelly was about to speak up on her observations before she put her hands on her head, her face showing some discomfort as she felt a somewhat large headache coming on.

"You alright there?" Shepard asked in concern.

"Yeah, I'm just kinda dizzy. Must've had a harder time evaluating the Lord General than I thought." She responded with a bit of pain, her head throbbing hard. Chakwas went up, shining a light at her eyes and performing some exams.

"You're burning up." Chakwas noted after as she checked forehead. "It may just be a fever, however I think you should head to the med-bay to be safe. Lay down for a bit."

"Do as she says, Kelly. You can send it in writing later." Shepard told her, as Chakwas helped her up. "Now I think we can ca—"

"Shepard, We're pulling up to Omega now." Joker called her over the comms.

"Thanks, Joker," she calls out as she looked to the ceiling, before returning her gaze to the gathered. "We'll continue this some other time. We've got a team to recruit. And Kelly? Get well soon. Miranda, contact the Lord General and the Magos, they're coming with us. I want to see what they can do."

* * *

 **Normandy SV 2**

 **Port Observation.**

The Magos hummed curiously at Kelly's predicament as he sat next to the Astropath Ezek on a sofa inside the observation room. The group of Imperials having claimed it and the mini bar as their personal quarters much to the crew's chagrin.

The man was exhausted, barely sitting up straight from his efforts in piggybacking inside the mind of the Yeoman as an improv listening device. His efforts waned as he overextended near the end, nearly popping her head like an ripe watermelon if he hadn't stopped.

" _What did they think?"_ Lord General Alston slurred a bit from his corner of the room, leaning against the minibar at the far end of the room with a bottle in hand.. His mind was deep in thought as had reviewed dataslate gave containing the history of these 'citadel' species. He did not hesitate to drink after reading said history.

" _Skeptical as groxshit."_ he replied.

" _Skeptical? You didn't put something fraking stupid did you? I told you to downplay it a_ _lot_ _."_ Alston replied, a now emptied bottle pointed at the Magos. _"Besides, I gave you free reign over that, not like I got a super computer in my head or anything."_

" _I did. They are skeptical of us."_

" _Then it's out of our hands, then. They planning to do anything to us?"_ he asked curiously as he inspected a glass tube of human brandy or at least that's what the label said, before proceeding to drink bit. He felt nothing but a small tickling burn, _"Weak stuff."_ he murmured.

"All hands, prepare for FTL exit," came EDI's voice.

" _I do not know. But we are approaching the designation call Ome—God, that is an ugly station!"_ The Magos screamed in revulsion, he knew what Omega looked like… he just didn't expect it to be that ugly in person.

" _Omegod? Who in the name of the emperor would name a station th—"_ The Lord General paused as he looked out the window. _"… Is that a muffin on a stick with red tentacles?"_ he asked passively as he continued drinking, _"That's intre—"_

* * *

"—sting," a man said, leaning back on his chair. He took a slow drag from his cigar as he looked in front of him. Numerous screens each displaying the latest of Lawson's reports. The video logs from the ruined commented, the various recordings from Miranda's excursion to recover the stolen mech and the newest addition: the history of this Adeptus Mechanicus and the Imperial Guard.

At first, when he received her report. He thought it was merely some eccentric humans with cybernetics, not an uncommon thing in the Terminus.

That changed when he saw the video evidence. The amount of cybernetics on these individuals would either suggest a hazardous occupation, a weak body or perhaps both. Their ability to seemingly interact with technology by touch and process large amounts of information in an instant is intriguing. However, he was currently interested in this Lord General and this '4th Aquarian Regiment'.

He took a drag from his cigar, before enlarging one of the screens, zooming in on a video of human climbing out of a armoured vehicle, aiming a large bulky gun towards a Eclipse commando and pulled the trigger. He paused the video, seeing a red line of light hit the asari on the head.

"Julius, prepare a message to Miss Lawson." He took another mouthful of smoke, before extinguishing what little was left into a built in ashtray in his chair's armrest.

"What is your message?" the VI replied, ready to dictate his words.

"I want to speak to this Magos Nokia and Lord General Alston. I believe I may have a proposition for them."

* * *

 **AN:** Sorry about the late release. We had a incredibly busy work schedule, a few accidents that involved us in somewhat serious pain and a lot of of work.. did I mention that? Anyways a word from the Co-Author.

 **Co-Author:** At the time of this update, the next chapter is halfway done. If you feel like it, have a look at my… two stories. But be warned, they are six years and do not reflect my current skill. AKA they're horrible ( Mr-Dr-Prof Sweetness ).

 **AN:** They really do not reflect his current skill and I managed to get him to say his name for once. Now time to dig in the review pile.

 **SalinorTheDrake:** it would depend, we just roll a dice and choose a result from DarkHeresy.

 **Janne Rolfe Jaladoni:** He'll try but it depends...

 **Last Admiral:** We can't say.

 **JauneBrando:** We still can't say.

 **Turoo:** Thanks for the criticism, any little bit helps us refine the story. We don't really have a editor and we usually work off work, when we get off.

 **Reader25846:** Thanks, we are bored.


	9. The Plague

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

 **Afterlife**

"Aria, I presume?" Shepard asked. The asari sitting at the large sofa at the very top gave Shepard a neutral look. The asari's eyes were much softer than the "try and start shit, punk" glare her dozen guards were throwing at the three of them. Shepard had a feeling that even without all the backup, this woman was the most dangerous person in the area.

Standing behind Shepard were Miranda and Jacob, both keeping an eye on the guards surrounding them. A batarian walked down the stairs, blocking Shepard's path, and brought up his omni-tool.

"Hold still!" He barked while waving it over her like a TSA agent would in an airport.

"This is the worst pat down ever. You're missing the obvious things." She deadpanned, pulling out her pistol but not unfolding it, as if to have him take it.

"Just checking who you really are," Aria replied. "Can't be too careful with dead Spectres; you could be anyone else wearing your face."

The omni-tool over Shepard beeped loudly as it finished its scan. "She's clean," the batarian reported and stepped to the side, letting her through

"I was told you were the one to talk to if I had any questions," Shepard stated as she walked up the steps.

"That depends on the questions." She flicked her head to the far end of the couch in indication for Shepard to sit there. "Ask away."

* * *

Alston was annoyed. Very annoyed.

He sat in a booth somewhere in the floor below the main one of this 'Afterlife' club. Seated with him were Trooper Private, Francis, and his aides. Private was fiddling with his new 'sanctified' omni-tool, eagerly accepting his new job as the Lord General's personal aide. While Francis and his retinue were silent and still. But in the Magos' case, he was currently staring at the various Tau, or 'asari' as the codexes called them, strippers dancing seductively on tables or poles.

Alston was not sure whether his best friend wanted to 'get a closer look' the way a tech priest would or a pervert would. He did not want to know. Especially with all those mechandrites the man was packing and knowing what Francis' tastes were back home.

Although, try as he might, Alston couldn't quite remember exactly what they were for some reason. Something involving… Dammit, what was it?

He sighed as he gave up, perhaps it'll come to him later.

As he looked around, the electronic music beating in the air grated on him like a scab on a wound. He was awed when he first saw the station, eager to actually see alien life that was not trying to kill him. Yet, the Magos had described this place as space Detroit. When they got off the ship with Shepard, he had to agree. It smelled nicer, too.

The charm however quickly wore of when he realized that it was a shithole and an alien tried to pickpocket his bolt pistol, the salarian got his balls booted and stumbled somewhere far away from him, squeaking curses all the while. The music sounded like a series of electric farts in an off-key rhythm, and the constant sliding of blue hands and bedroom eyes in his direction gave him the most confusing boner.

He decided that sitting between Francis and Alfa-01 was a safespace, especially since the last attempt when Fives, his personal servo-skull, peaked out from within the Magos' robe. Her terrified cries of a floating demon head as she ran away had amused the annoyed Lord General, the bystanders simply thought she had one too many to drink or was on drugs.

Shepard had walked off after giving them some of the local currency, called credits, to wait here. Leaving the both of them and the Magos to go speak with someone called 'Aria'.

" _What a stripper name."_ He thought as he adjusted the armor lent to him a bit. It squeezed a bit too tightly in the wrong places, his new height and size being a detriment to him for once.

Miranda and Shepard had 'suggested' that he change into a few surplus sets of armor they had lying around instead of his own, more exotic gear. The main idea being that he shouldn't draw any more attention to himself than his cybernetic eye already does. Apparently eye implants in this galaxy are little more than glass eyes in terms of look. He had argued otherwise, until the Magos came over and offered a deal to him and he complied.

He also had a feeling that Shepard also intentionally gave him something one size too small, as a petty insult.

" _I give up,"_ he blurted in Low Gothic, getting up and climbing over the table, too lazy to force his flankers to get out of the way.

" _Where are you going?"_ Francis asked in the same language, standing up and ready to proceed after him.

" _To get a drink! I can't stand this music, the waiting and the fraking armor riding up my ass."_ He shifted his armor to prove it, lessening the wedgie he was getting by not enough, " _I swear the bitch did this on purpose, I don't see you wearing any of this armor and you stand out more than me."_

" _I'm five sixths robot, armor plating is my skin. How in the Omnisiah's seat cushion can I change it?"_

" _With makeup, a plasma torch and a big paper bag!"_ he yelled, leaving Francis behind as the loud music began to mute whatever he was trying to say, as he stomped towards the bar... Or what he thinks was the bar being manned by a four-eyed alien.

"Give me a two drinks," Alston growled. His omni-tool lit up and translated his words to whatever language the alien spoke. The bartender nodded as two of its eyes blinked. He reached below the counter for two glasses and a small tubular bottle. Cracking open the bottle, he poured its green contents into the glasses before sliding them over.

"On the house, human." It gave him a smile. He gave a stern gaze back, a strong uncomfortable pulsing started to throb in his head before taking the free drinks and moving back. The throbbing continued for a bit longer before ceasing as he reached the table, he vowed to drink this headache away while he was here.

" _I got us drinks,"_ he informed his friend as he jumped on the table and dropped back on his original spot, setting one of the glasses down next to Francis. His friend as well as Alfa and Ranger stared at the glasses, likely amazed at how little of their contents had been spilled.

" _Should you be trying something a xeno gives you? Who knows what vile thing goes in it."_ Private asked with a hint of worry, staring at the bright green liquid.

" _You know Alfa could have got up for you, right?"_ Francis questioned.

" _You know that I'm not in the mood to wait when angry."_ Alston countered. He then raised his glass in a toast. _"I need this, you voltage whore."_

The drink disappeared in one gulp.

Seconds passed before he began to cough hard, bringing his right hand up to cover his mouth.

" _That's some good stuff. Only time I managed to get a burn from a non-Warhammer drink so far."_ he coughed out hard. The burning sensation moved it's way viciously down his throat before hitting the stomach.

Then he felt something melting inside.

Another fit of coughs hit him, and he pulled his fist from his mouth. He saw the white, ceramic gauntlet was now stained red. _"Huh, that's never happened before."_ A small stream of blood poured from his lips.

Private adopted a look of panic upon noticing the blood. The man quickly reached to his waist and retrieved a Imperial medkit from somewhere, a box almost the size of a briefcase, and began to rummage through it for the Diagnosticator. Desperation ran through his face, with Alston's starting to pale, until his hands grabbed onto the device and he hurriedly began his scans.

Alston's head slammed on the table with a loud clang. Private quickly choose a syringe from the kit and stabbed it into the man's neck, the needle piercing effortlessly through the undersuit.

[Magos, I believe we have our culprit,] Alfa said. Francis received a video feed from his Infiltrator, who was witnessing the batarian behind the counter, cleaning a glass absently. A pleased smile was on his face, the moment he saw the fallen lord general.

[Permission to deliver retribution to the xeno?] the Ranger requested, her blue optics glowing more bright with eagerness as she looked at the batarian.

[Granted. But!] The Magos interrupted before the Ranger could dash after the batarian. He looked over at his friend. The man should be fine if the data from Diagnosticador he took a peak at was to be understood, just a simple case of acid/poison. Easily curable with what was in the medkit if his records are correct. However he felt a burning rage inside, despite his muted emotions and his logical view on things now, this wrong must be corrected. [I have just the retribution in mind.]

The Magos and his Skitarii all synchronously got up and headed to the bartender, the crowd parting like the red sea, whose smile was melting faster than the Lord General's stomach.

* * *

"Alright, That should be all the information we need." Shepard said as she got up from the sofa, descending down the platform to her team. The music drowning out the sounds of their footsteps.

"Yes, try not to bring the plague with you." Aria warned before proceeding to talk with the turian next to her over some discreet matter.

"That was a bit tense, Shepard." Jacob said, as they walked down to the main floor.

"Yeah, she was a bit of a tease."

"So what's the goal now, Shepard?" Miranda inquired, as she looked back at Shepard, with arms crossed. "We can go for Archangel or we can try for Mordin first."

"Before we do anything, let's get our new friends before they get into trouble." Shepard urged, power walking to the lower level of the Afterlife where she last left them.

They were greeted to the sight of Ranger and Alfa pinning a struggling batarian on his back to the counter, while the Magos kept forcing a bottle of alcohol deep down his throat. The crowd around simply watched, wide eyed.

The Lord General was at a booth, his face pale, blood staining the table, the front of his armor and his lower jaw. Private was scanning him with some kind of device and jabbing a syringe in his neck.

Needless to say, Shepard and her team were surprised to see how quickly shit hit the fan; it was only twenty minutes or so.

The batarian's struggling quickly became more twitchy and erratic. He spazzed and convulsed as blood, bile and booze flowed out from around the bottle in his mouth. Then the body went still. Ranger and Alfa let go.

It slowly slid behind the counter without something holding it still.

"What happened?" Shepard demanded, moving towards the Magos.

"It seemed this bartender took the phrase 'pick your poison' literally," the Magos told her, while looking at the dead alien. "He thought that the Lord General would appreciate it. He did not. And neither did I."

"I'll inform Chakwas to prep the medbay." Miranda said, bringing up her omni-tool to send a message.

"He's holding on for now. Whatever that xeno gave him wasn't too strong, nothing like Tyranid acid or even a diluted Dark Eldar cocktail." Private reported. She knew she didn't like the guy for some reason, but being poisoned to death was too sadistic for her tastes… pun unintended.

However she filed away the words 'Tyranid' and Dark Eldar in her mind. She had a feeling that there was perhaps more to those words with how the Private looked when he mentioned them.

The Lord general coughed a bit as he tried to say something. His face regained some of its color, probably due to the medication the Private injected him with, as he tried to get up.

The Magos went over to her with his remaining aide, shadowing her with his height and his optics looked down at her.

She expected him to be angry, to be furious that this happened. She was surprised that he was not. In fact he was extremely calm, like poisoning was an everyday occurrence. "Do not worry for him. This is not the first time something like this happened, he will survive. If anything I should replace his digestive organs with machine parts so this shall not happen again."

The last sentence sounded a bit too happy for her, Miranda's and Jacob's liking.

He turned his head to look at Alfa-01, "Escort them back to the ship." Alfa nodded in affirmation, moving past the Magos. A skull sized object then transferred itself, quickly and unseen when the two were near each other, from the Magos' robe over to Alfa's. The Infiltrator moved over to help Private support the Lord General on his feet as the three walked away.

"How did the meeting with this 'Aria' go?" The Magos asked them, as if nothing had happened, "I trust she was 'entertaining'?"

* * *

"Human. Should have guessed" The sick batarian grumbled at us, struggling to stay awake, slumping against a wall.

Behind us, bodies were aflame, an attempt to limit the plague spreading to any more people. Some most of them were alien, since they were the targets of the plague. The tech-priest in me reveled at the specialization of it, only affecting non-humans. A boon for the Imperium, should it exist, and I wondered if I could get a sample of it.

Yet, the Francis inside me was most disturbed by this. This was a mini genocide. The plague itself targeting any and all regardless, leaving those infected to die from a slow and painful death while seeding everyone else with paranoia and germaphobia.

The Magos examined the sick alien from behind Miranda, and he looked as sickly as you can get. His jumpsuit was stained red with his blood that seeped out of the many sores he had. A pistol rested beside him, ready to use but left alone.

"Bad enough you infect us with the plague. Now you lack the decency to even wait for me to die before stealing my possessions," the batarian wheezed, before being hit with a coughing fit.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked the sick batarian, kneeling down to him to likely get a better. However she quickly retracted as the Batarian activated the pistol at the side.

"Get away from me, human!" he seethed, his bloodshot and tired eyes staring at Shepard with hate. "Your kind has done too much already. Your feigned pity is the final insult."

A crackle of static filled the Magos' ear, as he was about to hear Shepard's response. _"Oi, you the cog-head the General told us to call?"_ A somewhat scottish voice asked in a resigned tone.

The Magos paused for a moment, thoughts running through his head as to what or who said that. Impolite? Check. Scottish-like accent? Check. Time for the last test.

" _You will watch your tone, stunty."_ The Magos warned with a voice that could freeze water, making sure his external speakers were switched off.

" _Hah. That the best insult ye got?"_ The voice laughed back in reply, the Magos can hear the laughter of a few more voices in the background. _"I can see why he said that you'd make a horrible toaster, you can't even burn a piece of bread."_

' _Ohhh… they did not just say that'._ The Magos thought. It's confirmed. The Lord General summoned Ratlings to support him. Back on the ship, he had asked Alston if he could summon something sneaky. He expected some discreet veterans or at least a squad of Scions.

He was given one better. Ratlings. These midgets are some of the sneakiest thieves, fences and black marketeers in the Imperial Guard. Not to mention their skills at sniping and cooking, not that he needed the last one.

And they're in a space station that has more back alleys and vents than a red light district. Not a bad choice, they'll fit right in.

" _No matter, give me your name and rank and unit composition. I have orders for you."_

" _Captain Dalgoi Stumpun of the 7th Aquarian Auxiliary Rifles. I've twenty ratlings, with three enginseers acting as support. What would the orders be?"_ He announced proudly.

" _There is a quarantine zone on this station, which I'm currently inside. I want you to sneak inside and steal a few things for me."_

" _Consider them good as yours, whatever they are."_ Dalgoi responded, _"Not that we're good at stealing or anything. Yes, siree. Definitely ain't good at that."_ He denied.

" _Suits of armor and weaponry, primarily. They are blue with the logo of a white circle in an oval. Make sure they fit humans and have_ _working_ _helmets. Their omni-tools are secondary. These look like metal wristbands. Be sure to cover your tracks."_

" _Me and my lads can get your shiny bits, no prob."_ The voice assured him. _"Dinnae worry, We're the best around."_

" _If you are, then make sure I don't see you."_ The Magos deadpanned.

" _That's alright, You've been horrible at it so far,"_ Captain Dalgoi had a smug happy tone to his voice. _"Might want to wear something less purple and grandiose next time."_

Startled by the words, Francis whipped his around and looked high, searching for a herd of midgets with guns. His turning caused Jacob's hand to land on nothing but air, instead of his shoulder.

"What happened, you spaced out for minute there. _"_ Jacob asked, just as Shepard was concluding her conversation with the sick alien, who pointed towards a direction. Soon they began to walk off, leaving the alien behind with a promise to send help.

"Apologies, but detours such as this bore me. We came to find a doctor, not to assist all we come across." The Magos explained, uncaring in his movement as he strided behind Shepard. Ranger followed behind, alerted by the Magos through the Noosphere to keep a eye out for short people.

"That's a bit heartless," Shepard chided. "It didn't feel right to just leave him as he was. I had an opportunity to help him, and I took it."

"You wasted a valuable resource to give a dying xeno a few more minutes to live," the Magos rebuked her.

"It's not a waste. I likely saved someone's life," she replied, feeling insulted at being a Good Samaritan. "and even if he doesn't, I'll at least be at ease knowing that I tried,"

"Then for his sake we best hurry, lest it becomes more of a waste."

* * *

If the Magos had been looking more carefully, or to be more specific, above him at an angle. He would've seen a vent… which would not be out of place as vents were located almost every few feet.

However if the Magos had managed to see the other side of this vent. He would've noticed the frame of a short humanoid, looking directly at him, alongside his friends.

" _Yeh think he knows where we are?"_ a voice asked from inside the vent as they watched the group leave their line of sight.

" _Nah, he'd have done something if he had,"_ another figure said, as he moved forwards to peer out the grill. The bit of light coming in outlined a short hairy buff human, wearing a tattered blue flak jacket and a cloak that seemed to blend him into his environment. _"Or at least try to, but the Lordy General would have his wires ripped out or my name ain't Captain Dalgoi."_ he said assuringly.

" _So we gonna go steal now?"_ another voice asked.

" _Oi, call it 'borrowing'."_ This speaker slapped the questioner upside the head.

" _That's enough, lads. We got our orders. And remember our side objectives. The Lordy General wants us to 'borrow' as many of these 'credits' as we can get, our cog-heads will be helping us with the techy bits. Also, he promised to look away when we 'borrow' anything else."_ The Ratling gave a smile, a few golden teeth shined in the dim light. _"Ye got it?"_

" _Aye!"_

" _I call dibs on those glowy arm thingies those xenos have."  
_  
 _"After the cogheads look 'em over first"_ Someone at the back stressed, " _Don't wanna piss them off with tech-heresy, or you'll end up like Guardsmen Danie from the 1st Aquarian. They never found his head… or the rest of him._ " This person's voice was more solemn now.

" _Didn't we frame him for it, cause he called us stunties?_ "

" _All right, all right, quit yer yapping and get back to your squads. We gots a job to do."_ Just as they were about to scurry to their respective groups, the Captain whispered once more. _"Also, the Lordy General wants you to make sure the Magos is 'factory fresh', since he's currently unwell to do it himself. Private said the General will give us a bonus if we do; a throne saved is a throne for us, I say."_

Everyone smiled.

* * *

Genestealers… Of all the targets that got in her sights in her service under Magos Nokia, her least favorite were the tyranids. By the Omnissiah, she hated them. They moved too sporadically, twisting and turning every so often at the last moment. She never missed and she'll fight everyone and anyone who states otherwise. It wasn't her fault that the 'nid jerked to the side before the bullet hit it.

And lo and behold, here she was fighting them… or their equally as ugly cousins. She couldn't tell, as they did not exactly match the visual records in her archives.

They lacked the extra arms, but were still just as hideous and repulsive. Two sizes of them were currently engaged with her and her team. The smaller ones stayed behind cover and took laughably inaccurate shots. While the larger ones ignored cover and charged their lines, confident that their bulk and heavy armor would protect them from bullets. Faces were wrinkled in rage and excitement as they screamed their hearts out, firing their shotguns with loud bursts.

However the Magos showed that even if you have armor… it only works on what it covers. Their helmetless heads ended up with a small hole in them from the las-mechandrite. Small whiffs of smoke steamed out, as eyes glazed backwards.

Ranger was a little surprised that their heads didn't pop ' _Must have a higher muscle mass, like an ork.'_ she thought, while sending another bullet into the chest of a screaming but now dead genestealer, a litany murmured from her vox.

Although this Galvanic Rifle didn't have the one-shot killing power of her precious Arquebus, it was better suited for the fast paced action of urban engagements. She still wished that she could've brought her baby. _That_ would've gave those xenos something to smile about.

"Ahhhh!" a scream of fear was heard over the sound of gunfire,

A genestealer went flying backwards like an ork rocket, thanks to his primitive flamer and use of Miranada's warp powers—or whatever her name was. She never bothered to store that information, a waste of valuable space in her opinion. The genestealer collided with a few of his brethren and then flew up in the air at a ninety-degree angle. Ranger brought her rifle to bear on it but a tiny comet hit the gas tank on its back, explosively engulfing it in searing flames like a firework.

"Never seen a vorcha turned rocket before." Jacob commented, behind cover, before appearing out and unleashing a few shots into the staggering survivors.

Ranger couldn't help but eavesdrop, her sensors constantly picking up any and all noises lest she or other Skitarii like her miss anything vital, like a Demon Prince teleporting behind their lines; she didn't want to remember that battle.

Though now she decided to classify the smaller genestealers under the designation 'Vorcha', before sending relevant files and updates over to the Magos for storage and review. She was glad to be able to assist the Magos on his quest as is her duty.

The Magos would surely be amazed at her vigilance, due to him pausing for at least a fraction of a second before continuing to terminate the xenos. She hoped that he would address her.

Her xeno refractor field flashed repeatedly as a series of impacts appeared on her side, before overloading. The few rounds that managed to come after, punched holes in her leaden robe before slamming into her torso armor with negligible effect, leaving hardly any dents. Though she was sure she was gonna have to patch the holes later.

[Focus.] She heard her Magos scolded from behind cover on the Noosphere. His las mechadendrites poking out to shoot an enemy, while he kept behind cover. The sound of something screeching in the distance to alert that said shot hit.

At least got what she wished for… in as sense. [Apologies, it will not happen again.]

She peeked out to acquire a target, only to see the last one get lifted into the air with a blue glow. It flailed and screeched helplessly for a second before being brought down to the floor suddenly at such a speed that the breaking of bones was loud and clear.

"I think they're running off." Shepard noted, emptying her shotgun into a vorcha she had knocked over with a Biotic Charge. The enemies' morale was broken, sending them screaming in fear as they escaped through doors or alley ways.

The fight was rather one-sided, with the use of overwhelming firepower, warp powers and surprise. Ranger unhinged her rifle's cylinder before ejecting the moon clip from the bandolier on her chest. She found it odd that her ammo belt was always full, despite the number of reloads she went through so far. It was pointless to question this topic: The more bullets she had, the more she could shoot.

"Invertebrates," the Magos scoffed. "I am surprised they stood their ground this long."

"Well, you two did kill most of them in the first half-minute of the fight. " Shepard commented as she pumped her shotgun, ejecting her heat sink. Everyone gathering up as they began to move up the stairs the dying batarian noted, towards the clinic or its supposed location. "I never seen people shoot that fast."

Ranger felt a swell of pride at the compliment as they moved deeper into the district. She acted as the rearguard alongside Jacob in the five-man formation as they ascended a flight of stairs.

"You will never find anyone more accurate than those in the Skitarii Legions." Ranger answered back, her voice lined with a muted pride.

"Legions?" Shepard asked, her curiosity peaked during the silence of the walk. "how many legions are there, and are they all similar to you?"

"Enough to occupy the numerous major for—" She was cut off, by a quick message from the Noosphere.

[Do not indulge them any further on this topic. They must know not the true extent of the Imperium's borders,] the Magos warned from the front of the group.

She paused momentarily, as she realized that her moment of pride, she almost gave away vital information. Cursing her moment of weakness, she was caught unaware.

A series of loud roars came from the top of the stairs. Immediately afterwards the Magos, who was at the head of the group, was airborne. He flew over all of their heads before tumbling down the stairs with the, another body holding onto him, clangs of metal and grunts echoed throughout the descent. Vorcha followed suit quickly and ambushed the surprised group.

Once the rolling stopped, the figure revealed itself to be one of the bigger genestealers or a 'krogan' by the local terms. It stunned the Magos with a strong headbutt, the speed of it forcing his head to bounce harshly on the metal floor with a bang, ruining his vision as one of his lenses cracked from the impact. He tried to push up only to be pounded over and over with fists as large as boxing gloves.

Ranger desperately wanted to help her leader, but she was busy keeping a vorcha from biting her, using her gun as a bar. It didn't help that they were on stair as it gave the vorcha a height advantage, letting it push down on her easier.

CRACK!

Her assailant's head exploded, blinding Ranger as red blood painting itself over her lenses. The unexpectedness of this had Ranger off guard, before she quickly turned around to see whoever fired that shot. Shepard and the others did likewise, only to be greeted to nothing. The bodies of the vorcha they were ambushed by slowly rolled down the stairs.

A loud roar of pain distracted them from their search.

Whoever had fired that shot had also hit the Krogan, his lower jaw destroyed. The Magos took advantage of the momentary pause, shoving a mechandrite into the now-and-forever open mouth.

A stiletto of blue plasma pushed outwards, melting through flesh and bone before it punched out the back of the Krogans head. The Magos pushed it off him and laboriously got to his feet.

"That was unpleasant," he huffed out loud.

"Are you alright? That krogan busted you up good," Jacob asked as he walked down the stairs to the Magos, his head looking around for the potential shooter.

"That it did. My right optic is damaged." The Magos responded, "No matter, I have two more."

"Was that shot from you?" Shepard asked, her gun aiming high. Her armor had gained a few cosmetic scratches from the more recent fight but was still in great condition.

"I had a half-ton xeno sitting on me. Forgive me for having more _pressing_ concerns."

She made a face at the sarcasm and bad pun, "So if not from you, then who shot them?"

"I do not know." Was his simple reply.

"It was more than one shooter, clearly. No one person can shoot this many men that quickly." Miranda brought up, kneeling down to examine the bodies. "That, and the krogan was too far from the vorcha, not to mention the recoil would've thrown the other shots off."

* * *

" _By the Emperor, that was close,"_ a ratling sighed in relief. He racked the bolt of his sniper rifle, catching the ejected casing before stuffing it in a pocket.

" _You know the Lord General ain't gonna be 'appy about this."_ A voice rang off from the microbead in his ear, sounding a bit irate. " _He wanted the man to be scratchless."_

" _Ain't much my group can do. We've enough trouble trying to follow in these vents, let alone finding the right angle in one."_

" _Aye,"_ the voice agreed, " _Anyways, we've better move ahead, find some people to pinch."_

" _Already moving."_ The ratling said, guided by the droning instructions of an enginseer. Who would occasionally complain about how the xenos are insane when it came to engineering.

He did not like listening to that.

* * *

"Doctor Mordin Solus?" Shepard addressed the salarian, cutting into his talk with one of the other doctors about substitutes for a medicine.

She was a bit perturbed at the lack of combat in what was supposed to a massive turf war. She and her group were in only two fights: after the checkpoints where they met the batarian, and at that one stairway where they encountered friendly snipers, 'friendly' being used loosely here since her party wasn't shot.

It was also strange to say the least, especially since all of the combatants so far were Blood Pack. The lack of any Blue Suns either suggested that they were simply not a factor anymore or that they were wiped out.

Both results were disturbing.

Mordin's head turned from its perch on his hand to look her, his black eyes zipping over her frame in sort of rapid appraisal. This lasted a moment before he did the same to Miranda, Jacob, and before seeming to stall a bit at Magos Nokia and Ranger. He booted up his omni-tool and waved it at them all.

"Hmm, don't recognize you from area. Too well-armed to be refugees. No mercenary uniforms. Quarantine still in effect." His speech was so fast Shepard had to strain her ears to understand him.

"Here for something else, vorcha? Crew to clean them out? Unlikely, vorcha a symptom, not a cause," He paused as he scurried over to another terminal, as he passed he looked at Shepard, mind still locked on whatever train of thought he was stuck in. "The plague? Investigating possible use as bio-weapon? No no, too many guns, not enough data equipment. Soldiers, not scien—"

"We do not have time to dawdle on speculations and theories." The Magos' speech was just as fast as Mordin's as he interrupted the salarian's inquisitorial rant. " Doctor Solus, we require your assistan—"

"Can't," he countered. "Too busy with patients. Plague still in effect. Can't obey the whim of strangers. Especially those from Cerberus. Highly unusual that they seek aid from non-humans. Must be desperate."

"How did you—" Miranda began before being cut off by Shepard.

"Never mind that. Yes, we—they are desperate." Even though she literally owed Cerberus her life, she still had a bad taste in her mouth when referring to them. "We're currently going after the Collectors. Whole colonies of humans have disappeared and we have hard evidence that shows them responsible."

"Collectors? Interesting. Plague hitting the slums is engineered. Collectors one of few groups with technology to design it. Our goals may be similar afterall," Mordin mused. He walked off once again, over to a nearby console. "Must stop plague first. Already have a cure, need to distribute it at environmental control center. Vorcha guarding it. _Need to kill them_."

Then the power shut off, as if to provide an analogy to his words. Emergency lights flared to life, painting everything in a sickish red hue. The fans, once humming constantly, whine down to silence.

"That's not good," Jacob commented. Miranda nodded in agreement.

* * *

 **AN and CO-Author:** Sorry about taking so long on this. We've had to go through three different versions. Two of which ended up with Omega exploding or having a titan spawned on it. Needless a Omega with arms and legs sticking out in space may be amusing... but too crack-heavy for this... for now.

Anyways I wanted to tell you guys that we are going on a temp hiatus with this story, as my co-author wants my help on starting a project of his own involving warhammer fantasy. Needless to say I am intrigued and horrified to the point I said yes. The story will be continued but at a much slower pace, sadly.

 **Co-Author:** Please review this chap, we are curious as too what you might think.


	10. The Cure Hits the Fan

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

 **Omega**

 **Quarantine district**

"What the hell?" Shepard wondered, a bit stunned by what she is seeing, as she cleared the entranceway to another room. Which unfortunately to her had neither the intern Mordin wanted her to find… nor a exit.

"This is unusual," Miranda noted, her voice echoing from the room as she followed behind Shepard. Leaving Jacob, Ranger and the Magos outside to watch out for ambushers.

"What is it?" Jacob asked from outside. Ranger and the Magos kept silent. They had no intentions of talking more than they need to.

"This room is full of Blue Suns, all dead. But they've also been… categorized," Miranda hesitated. "Humans in one pile, non-humans in the other."

"Don't forget to mention the humans are half naked," Shepard threw in.

"What?" Jacob said in surprise.

"That sounds about right," Ranger said. Jacob gave Ranger a curious look, as if hinting for a further explanation.

"To the categorization of hum—" Ranger stopped as the Magos shut her up with a look and a quick ping to her vox.

She proceeded to turn off her mask's speakers and turned to look forward, away from Jacob and his expression.

Jacob turned his head, unwilling to question any further, moving into the room that Shepard was in. The two Adeptus Mechanicus personnel stayed outside in utter silence.

As he looked around what was perhaps a small storage room and was just as surprised at the amount of bodies crammed into it.

Shepard moved to the pile of half-naked humans, her rifle pointed at it for any surprises, and gave it a hard kick. One of the bodies slid off and landed face up towards her. Miranda ignored it, preferring to examine the pile of dead Blue suns still in armor.

It was the body of a middle-aged brown skinned man, only dressed in what seemed to be brown briefs, a tattoo of the blue suns logo on his right pectoral. The main area of interest however, was the neck and face.

The eyes of the man was slightly bulging out, an expression of fear and surprise on his face, a large bruise wrapped around his neck. Looking closer to it, it resembled what seemed to be rope burn. Though as she looked over the rest of the bodies, Shepard saw some with their necks slit or bending at unnatural angles. She also noted that these bodies were 'fresh', very 'fresh'.

The same can't be said for the other pile. Their deaths were not as clean.

"Can't be vorcha who did this, too clean." Jacobs voice brought her out of her examination. "Not krogan either. They would've had heads caved in or limbs ripped off… Or eaten."

"He's right, Shepard. And take a look at this." Miranda stood over a body of a dead batarian in Blue Suns uniform, a dataslate in her hands. She offered it to Shepard.

She took the data-slate from Miranda, giving it a quick read. There was an recent order that all Blue Suns were to beware of 'children' and to shoot them on sight. The "children" bit caught Shepard's eye, and she thought back to their unknown support from earlier.

"I think we're dealing with child soldiers here…" Shepard relayed blankly.

"Children did this?" Jacob was aghast. "H… How?"

"I don't even know, nor want to," Miranda said. "Though It wouldn't beyond the realm of possibility on Omega." She looked over at Shepard, "It breeds the desperate and despicable."

They were unaware that their conversations were being eavesdropped upon by the two waiting outside.

[ _I am surprised that they were this effective, It has been less than a few terran hours since we last contacted them. This is a testament of skill to those abhumans... Or the lack thereof with these "Blue suns"]_ Ranger chatted to the Magos, over her vox.

The Magos did not reply, his mind deep in thought over something, evident due to his posture and the stare he was sporting. Ranger decided to refrain from speaking further.

" _Idiots. I told them to avoid being seen."_ The Magos fumed internally.

"You have been spotted." he quickly berated the the merry band of murderous munchkins over the vox.

He got no reply. The static sounded like shame to him.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Mess Hall**

Trooper Private was worried.

No, scratch that. He was absolutely terrified, sitting on a stool by the counter. The room was currently almost empty. The only occupants being the mess hall cook, who gave him a cheerful greeting before turning his attention to mixing some delightfully smelling meal in a pot, and a few crewmembers on break, talking away in their own little world.

He did not mind that, Private was not looking for conversation nor did he want any. Though he couldn't help but feel a bit lonely now, especially since the only other Imperial here he could relate too, Astropath Ezek, was locked in his room resting. And you do not disturb a resting psyker unless you _really_ have to.

He saw some Guardsmen learn that the hard way when they spontaneously combusted.

The cook, Gardner if he recalled correctly from the earlier greetings, passed him a mug of 'caw-fee'. Giving him a look of sympathy before proceeding back to his cooking.

He quickly took a deep drink of the burning liquid. It honestly tasted like a better version of recaff in his opinion, and with the fact that he could add as much sugar as he wanted. Which to be honest, even _having_ sugar is a luxury to anyone in the Imperial Guard, let alone tasting it.

Despite the incredibly liberal amounts he added in his 'distracted' state, he could not taste it. The shame from his negligee had overwritten his taste buds.

Private turned his helmeted head over to the window, only to see it greyed out. The medicae was conducting emergency treatment. This was perhaps the only time he would find himself hating the medicae, and no guardsmen would ever hate the medicae. That would be tantamount to suicide in a warzone.

Alfa was standing guard outside the door, the Lord General's private servo skull floating next to him.

He sighed as he looked forward.

It was an honor to serve the Lord General directly. Not to mention that he was also aware that it was also supposed to be one of the safest positions in the Imperial Guard, along with the longest lifespan. It was his duty and job, albeit a job he never wanted, to serve and protect the Lord General.

He failed in less than three days.

He was positive about what would happen to him if the Lord General died. The nearest commissar being _very interested_ in pointing a bolt pistol at him, if the Lord General had brought any here with him that is.

Although on the bright side maybe he'll live? He was rather thorough with administering the various needles and medicines the cogitator told him. Though granted, no one usually cared if he bungled before on a guardsmen. Merely another number to a long list.

This patient was a completely different matter.

He took another sip. Unaware that he had drained the mug and was sucking air. Placing the empty mug down and looked straight at it. He inwardly prayed to the Emperor, his gloved hands on his chest, clasped in the sign of the aquila, before he noticed someone sitting on the stool next to him.

"You alright there?" She asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

Raising his head and looking over to his left. He recognized the face of one of the crew members he met during the meeting they had a while ago. A Kelly Chambers, if he remembered right

"I'm fine, just worried about the Lord General and all." His omnitool lit up and translated the stream of Low Gothic, as he raised the mug to his lips.

"You seem a lot more than just worried."

"It is nothing much. Just… thinking about things." Private tried to deflect her.

"You're drinking wet sugar from a empty mug,"

He realized the incredibly sweet taste on his tongue as soon as she noted this. No longer distracted in his worry, he felt the sweetness suddenly become unbearable and coughed out.

Kelly passed over a napkin to the coughing Private.

"Thanks," he said as he wiped his lips.

"You want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about? The Lord General is in there because of me."

Kelly pursed her lips at this self-hating attitude. "Let's change the topic from him to you. Tell me… How old are you?" She gave him a genuine reassuring smile.

"Eighteen."

"Ah, so you've been serving the Imperial Guard for a few months, I take it?"

"More like a few years."

Kelly blinked at that. "I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, conscripted at fifteen during a 'recruitment drive'." he said with a resigned look, not seeing the need at all to hide this fact. It was common knowledge about the Imperial Guard on Aquarius after all.

"What consists of a recruitment drive?" Kelly dared to ask, a look of horror growing inside her, though she did not show it on her face.

"Well, for me it was during my shift at the algae manuf—"

"You have children working at fifteen? What about school?" Kelly interrupted.

" 'Aquarians learn to scrape and swim before they walk and run' is a phrase we use. Schools for those who can afford it and we're considered adults at fourteen, old age at about late twenties. Frankly, anything over forty is extremely rare unless your of the noble class, or rich."

The psychiatrist massaged the bridge of her nose, her disbelief growing. Shepard might want to hear about this.

"Anyways, my 'recruitment' consisted of a mob of recruiters alongside a platoon of PDF storming in and yelling and hitting us to ' _get in the truck outside before I shoot one of you_!'. He emphasized the voice with a gruff accent. The omni tool managing to get it surprisingly accurate.

"Did he?" She hoped he didn't.

"He did, shot Algin in the leg when he tried to protest about feeding his parents, and beat him before dragging him off to the trucks, Luckily, it was a las gun on a low setting, so he didn't lose his leg. We listened after that and here I am."

"Is that even legal in the Imperium? To just force dozens of people to go through boot camp? What about your parents?"

"Dozens? Nooo, no no no, I was in one of many manufactorums in the hive. Not to mention that these drafts are of a planetary scale, so a good few million are gathered at a time," Private was in thought, "I haven't seen or contacted my parents since, once your in the Guard you're never going to see your home planet again."

Kelly sat there, her face morphing from disbelief to astonishment and finally horror, as she processed the number of soldiers recruited in this way and the other tidbits of information. She had to know something. "How often does this happen?"

Private was oblivious to the expressions, of her and those around the room, as he explained more and more about what he knew. Nor was he aware of the slowly increasing amount of crew members who were passing by but paused as they overheard his explanations.

"Whenever it was time to pay the tithe, and they don't have enough bodies in the PDF for the Guard. So about every decade or so. It's been going on for a long time, since we joined the Imperium millenia ago."

' _But… How… is that even sustainable?'_ she thought, before forcing on a fake smile, switching the talks to perhaps a different subject.

"How did you manage to become the Lord General's aide?"

"He liked the sound of my name," Private monotoned.

"... That's it? No outstanding feats you done that caught his attention? No special skills?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He just liked the name and decided to make me his aide. Though I only got the job for three days…. And I've failed that." he began to mope.

"What even _is_ a Lord General?" She decided to change the topic once again. Perhaps this answer would be less grim.

"He's the _Lord general_." he said, a bit puzzled at her question.

"I understand that, but what is the… directive of a Lord General, how is it different from a regular general?"

"I don't know that much to be honest, but all I know from my Imperial Primer is that a general controls a army, the Lord General commands the _armies_ of the Imperial Guard, the resources, entire warzones and planets."

She was quiet for a minute as she processed this.

"... Tell me, how big can these wars get?"

"I don't know. The Lord General would know more, he's been with the Guard longer than I have. I've only fought in one skirmish, but that one encompassed an entire world and took over a year." Private gave a thoughtful look. "Well to be honest, it was a hive world of less then a few billion. So a tiny skirmish."

"Billions? An entire—… How big are the regiments?" Every answer made her gape.

"I'm not really sure, either. It varies quite a bit from here and there, but I've heard that the Guard had over a few million men on that world."

Kelly… was speechless.

Only when Private decided to look over at Kelly, was he surprised by her face of shock, horror and.. pity? Looking around him he saw similar expressions, from Gardner who gave him "caw-fee", over to the now bigger crowd of crew members that simply stared at him.

Private suddenly pondered if he might have made a mistake, the Lord General and the Magos would not be happy about this nor the astropath.

Frak, he forgot about the astropath.

"Can I get a refill?" He smiled nervously.

* * *

 **Omega  
Environmental Controls**

[This is a lot more resistance than expected.] Magos Nokia grumbled as a missle soared over his head. His las-mechadendrite peaked over the cover like a snake out of a hedge, and replied with a las beam.

A loud boom was heard, along with the sounds of something screaming. A menacing hiss echoed out from one of the vorcha at the end, which his omnitool translated as an extremely vulgar swear even by Imperial standards. Nokia did not know whether to be impressed or disgusted by it.

He had his las-mechadendrite fire another shot and the hissing stopped.

[It's shameful that their missiles are the only weapons that can remotely harm us,] Ranger voxed, her rifle barked a few times at distant targets.

[Are you proposing to let them shoot you? You are welcome to do so.]

[N-no,] she stammered, realizing how she sounded. [I was merely mentioning—]

[While what you say is true, that does mean you can assume fighting these xenos will be forever easy.] A missile exploded against his cover as soon as he ushered the final word, the block of concrete thick enough to handle it… barely, with the shockwave making his robes flutter.

He popped out out of what was left to shoot his Serpenta, an glowing orb of burning phosphorus flew out, at an encroaching flamer in the shins, toppling him, before gunning the tank on its back. The following violent explosion knocked a few vorcha off the railing, their screams fading away as they grew closer to the bottom, those further out stunned by the sudden boom.

The two AdMech took advantage of the explosion, advancing and firing towards any stunned foes, heading to another section of hard cover… A few feet ahead of them.

[This sector of space is fully unknown to us. There may be an aspect of it that we are completely vulnerable to.]

"Hey, Magos, how goes the progress on your fan?" Shepard barked from her comm bead. Her voice sounded frantic.

"Slowly but surely."

"That's a lot better than us; were more stuck than a ripe turnip in harvest season. They must _really_ not want this cure to get out if they have this much manpower here!"

The Magos had a dreading suspicion as to why.

When the group first entered this room. It proceeded as how Francis remembered it from the game, though it was a bit amazing at how all of his memories were now stored digitally: open door, get confronted by vorcha collector fanboys (only for me to force-feed the speaker a las bolt), moving to the main controls to start it up, then proceeding to part ways to take both fans simultaneously.

But by the Ommissiah's skull he did not think there would be this much opposition or even rocket launcher as soon as he shot the first one in the face. Francis wasn't sure if this was a matter of "Game vs Life" or that the ratlings _might_ have tipped the balance of power in the Blood Pack's favor, rather heavily.

However, he knew one thing. He was gonna need help and he had only one option.

 _"This is Magos Nokia, I demand a response from any nearby ratling teams,"_ The Magos voxed in Low Gothic. He did not have to wait long for a response.

" _This be Ratling squad "Little Foot", Reporting."_ A reply crackled back, somewhat distorted by the sound of gunfire in the background.

" _Ratling squad "Quick Finger", Reporting. Other squads are occupied dealing with some xenos scum in other areas."_

The Magos sent an order, " _My squadmates on the other side of this room are pinned down. Assist them however you can_ ,"

" _What's the magic words_?" another voice butts in on the vox, sounding a bit too happy for the Magos' liking.

'Seriously? Now?' The Magos thought, annoyance building. " _Please and thank you._ " he mumbled, the annoyance muffled down.

The voice imitated a buzzer buzzing, " _Wrong answer._ " In the background he could discreetly make out the sound of a someone trying to warn the speaker to not piss off the 'Cog-head'.

'Are they standing around and talking when they should be _obeying me_?' An enraged thought popped up. Francis didn't know where that came from, it felt… odd.

'Fight now, think later.'

" _I will shoot you, turn your corpse into a sewer maintenance servitor and have it_ _lick_ _things clean._

" _And, donate_ _all_ _your belongings to charity."_ He emphasized this point, leaning his pistol arm out and firing a searing white ball at the lower region of a particularly brave vorcha. Said vorcha would go out singing soprano, he made sure that the screams would carry over the vox to said ratling.

" _We have a winner!"_ The ratling immediately yelled, fear and desperation obvious. A few seconds later the Magos heard him say, _"Have a grenade, you cheeky frakkers_!"

There was a loud boom on the other side.

[Move forward!] The Magos ordered, marching out of cover.

* * *

A vent overhead, opened up above the vorcha raking cover against Shepard's position. As soon as it swung open, three small metal objects dropped down. One vorcha paused his shooting to stare curiously at one of the strange things that dropped beside him.

It was the last thing he saw before a wave of heat and steel shrapnel shredded him into chunky salsa. The explosion hit those further out, and due to the somewhat narrow path, sending a few of them over the railing. They screamed on their way down to bottom, far below.

"Was that you?" Shepard screamed at Miranda and Jacob. While launching a throw at a stunned vorcha in the chest, having him somersaulting a good distance backwards.

"No," both of them answered with their own respective gunfire as red tracers lit up from all sides. A missle roared past and destroyed a chunk of the concrete railing near Shepard, pelting her with fragments.

A krogan roared to rally or intimidate the vorcha around him to press forward. A familiar cracking sounded shortly after, and the krogan sagged to the ground, missing a portion of the left side of his head.

The krogan dying threw the vorcha into small panic. This was further exacerbated by those who attempted to corral them again, only to end up as targets from further shots.

The Blood Pack's resistance had taken a nosedive.

"Advance now, Shepard! They are in disarray." The Magos chimed over to Shepard. She could easily hear the sound of gunfire and shrieking coming over from his side, and for some reason incredibly high pitch screaming.

Shepard didn't know where this distraction had come from, but she was grateful nonetheless for it. Peering over the cover to see a vorcha crumple to the floor with an echoey bang.

"There, in the vents! Muzzle flashes!" Jacob called out. Shepard glimpsed upwards, just in time to see one go off, illuminating a figure within its dark confines. A rather stumpy figure, easily fitting into the small vents.

"I think it's those kids you were talking about earlier, Shepard," Jacob noted. "Though I'm not exactly comfortable with kids having guns in the first place."

"Can't do anything about that. Now move it!" Shepard yelled.

Jacob and Miranda advanced, spurred into action by Shepard's command. One would pause behind cover to shoot, allowing the other to move forward a bit before doing the same. The occasional shot would hit them, only to be reflected by the barriers. Both of them covered each other as they moved as one towards the fan.

Shepard however was another story. If Miranda and Jacob were like a clockwork mechanism, Shepard was like a rampaging bull… on caffeine. She flew forward in a biotic burst, her fist colliding at FTL speeds into the face of a vorcha as it just peered out of cover. It's teeth were shattered before it was sent flying backwards, its limp body landing on top of a surprised, even wider eyed vorcha.

She didn't bother to look as she fired her shotgun point blank into both of them, her incendiary module lighting the one on top on fire. The flames from the burning bodies, along with the background of dying screams, illuimated Shepard as an angel of wrath.

As the team stormed down the walkway towards the fan units, gunning down any who would get in their way or in Shepard's case, firing pointblank and setting their internal organs into charcoal.

The occasional krogan would charge out of cover, frustrated by the ongoing fight, only to targeted immediately by Shepard's new allies, whittling down the already dismal morale among those left.

As she reached the doorway, it opened up to reveal a vorcha holding a rocket launcher… right in her face. The alien unaware or too stupid to realize that shooting her this close would kill them both.

She quickly reacted, punching its chest with a bioticly charged fist and caving it in. The Vorcha had a face of surprise before it expired, but not before it pulled the trigger as it fell downwards into a heap.

The missle narrowly flew by Shepards head, mere inches away from her. Although muffled by her helmet, it still sounded like a high pitched whistle that had gone off. The projectle soared behind her and between Miranda and Jacob, who were luckily not in its path, as it soared upwards towards the ceiling.

A loud boom was heard from behind them, followed by screaming and cries of pain. Miranda looked backwards, as she guarded the door, and saw where the missile had impacted.

The shot hit directly into one of the vents, or to be more specific, one of the vents that was open.

Shepherd, approaching the console after securing the room, had noticed that the fans on the other side of the hall were activated. Realizing that the Magos and Ranger must've reached thiers before her. She did not hesitate to activate her side.

The machinery soon came to life, pumping vital oxygen and most importantly, the cure for the plague.

Shepard took a deep breath as she relaxed a bit, before deciding to contact the Magos to regroup to leave. "Magos, the fans—" She was cut off by what sounded like a girlish scream on the his end and what sounded like pleas for mercy. "What are you doing?"

"Indulging my curiosity. What is it that you need?" The Magos replied, the sound of something snapping was heard and the pleas stopped.

She decided to not ask. "Regroup with us at the center, we're gonna head back to the clinic."

The two groups met in the room, paying little mind to the carnage they caused. The three humans stopped for a moment at the sight of something wet with orange liquid in the Magos' bloody grasp, Ranger stood by his side.

"... Where did you get that?" Shepard asked, as she stared at the Magos who was currently examining his spoil. The Magos stepped to the side to show a still twitching krogan, its head plate gone and the space it covered spurting blood.

"I wanted to see what a krogan skull looked like. This was in the way." He tucked the plate in his robes. "Shall we head back to the doctor?" He walked off before Shepard or her squadmates could comment.

The three looked at each other and then decided to follow suit. Shepard would have questions to ask after this.

However as Miranda walked beside Jacob, she felt her foot hit something, sending the object skidding with soft metallic tinks.

She paused as she looked at it, walking towards it and bending over to pick it up.

It was a large brass cartridge shell almost the size of her finger and a bit wider. A shell from a gunpowder weapon, something humanity has not used for decades since they discovered Mass Effect technology on Mars. Turning it around, she saw a small skull symbol, partially burned off.

Miranda didn't know what to think of this. How could someone have access to an outdated technology? One that proved to be rather effective against kinetic barriers. Effective as in these rounds seemed to pass straight through regardless.

She pocketed the casing resolving to examine it when she got back on the _Normandy_.

* * *

 **AN:** And here goes another Chapter to our loyal (or not) readers. We hit a SNAFU and quite a few arguments with our Warhammer Fantasy crossover project but it's being worked on as a side now. So in other words we're going to shift our priority to this story until we stop beating each other over the he—

 **Co-AN:** By SNAFU he means we can't figure out the start. We have the middle down pat, and *maybe* the ending, but the start is all whack. There is this weird dynamic where we go through draft after draft after draft on the Fantasy one, yet nothing seems to stick. Yet when we work on 40K, it's a 40Kakewalk!

 **AN:** The Co-author is a liar. We wrote 12 versions of Chap 1 completed, each with different points…. And we just scraped them all. Not arguing about the 40k one, it's more easier for us to do this… and Shame shame on you Co-AN. That pun hurts.

Anyways lets go to the Reviews.

 **Rehtnapome** and " **Vanbor the Fire Mage"** : Thanks for the reviews and we hope to not disappoint you.

(Co-AN: Hnnnng! The compliments of being among/surpassing the best... it's very surprising and touching to see that people actually think highly of this story. Thank you.)

 **Grudgematch** : We have a thing going for the Ratlings, but we're not sure if we should. Only Ranald can tell.

(Co-AN: No midgets on the Normandy)

(An: That's what he thinks.)

(Co-AN: I don't think, I know.)

 **Seabo76:** Thanks, it's a bit difficult trying to balance it in the right ratio.

 **TubfullOfDishes345** : Thanks

 **Co-AN** and **AN:** Don't forget to review, we like it when people do so

(It makes the Co-AN feel "Special".)


	11. Meeting of the Minds

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

 **Hive world Lepreus**

"Firing for effect!" A voice screamed, followed shortly by a piercing whistle of a large rocket soaring through the war torn sky. The rocket was quickly followed by many others, drawing smoke-lines into the air on their way to their target.

A distant hive city that would make mountains look small as it reached upwards into the clouds and seemingly into space. The countless amounts of lights shining from and out of it resembling a glittering oasis in the wastelands surrounding it. A monument to man's achievement, as numerous spires were decorated with various imperial saints and gothic architecture.

The reinforced rockcrete walls surrounding the city were massive, albeit small when compared to the surrounding spires behind it, and the defenders were but miniscule dots at the very top.

However the city had declared who they truly followed, as below and around the defenders, were numerous banners featuring a defaced aquila. If one were to look closer, they would notice the writings decrying the Imperium for being "Oppressors" or "zealous fools of a distant, uncaring vegetable" in local lingo.

Streams of tracer rounds flew from oversized anti-aircraft guns as they tried to shoot down the various aircrafts bombing the city. While guns and artillery on the walls and inside the hive itself, boomed unceasingly, the vibrations shaking the foundations and causing minor hive-quakes in the lower levels, at the imperial attackers storming towards them via a elaborate trench network.

At a predetermined distance to the target, the rockets broke apart into smaller bomblets over the hive forming a numerous carpets of powerful explosions. The skyscraper the first rocket hit timbered as its foundations were destroyed, collapsing towards another much smaller tower and knocking it over like a dominoes. Whole city blocks were glassed and hundreds of soldiers and civilians perished in fire, their bodies either atomized by the intense heat or left as blackened husks strewn wildly around numerous craters.

With the salvo finally completed, the Lord general gave his review as he looked away from the holographic command table, "You missed! I said hit the walls, not the hive! How are my men supposed to get in if there is a frakking wall in the way?"

The artillery commander, recently promoted and new, stood up straight and fully aware of the Lord Generals displeasure. The man replied quickly with a heavy stammer of embarrassment. "S-s-sorry, m-my Lord, I'll see to it that the next volley be straight and true."

"Don't bother, the other siege batteries would do it." The Lord General responded, giving a motion to a nearby voxman. Said man nodded before speaking into his vox with a series of codes.

A series of loud booms rattled the lord general's ears and shook the ground. Seconds later, the walls began to explode. Whole sections of rockcrete caved in, spilling men, artillery and even a few vehicles many kilometers down to earth. Eventually, breaches were made, as a streams of guardsmen rushed inwards into the hive on fire.

Nodding at the display, The Lord General turned around leaving the tent and walked to his personal Chimera. The rear door opened, and there was someone waiting inside. He was tall, he was annoyed, and he was incredibly h̶a̶n̶d̶s̶o̶m̶e̶ familiar.

"Finally decided to show yourself." Another version of Lord General Alston, much older looking and with an more authoritative air to him, greeted smugly with a smile. "By the emperor, you have no idea how long I had to wait for you to finally sleep."

"Wha—"

"Shush, I'm talking here and time is of the essence. Now let's go somewhere more… "civilized" and away from this memory for this conversation, shall we?" He snapped his fingers and Alston's vision went blank.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Medical Bay**

He felt incredibly sore all over, yet slightly rejuvenated somehow. He was laying on a sort of bed and he could feel that tightness, which was the armor Shepard gave or rather forced him to wear.

The Lord General opened his eyes, the bright light burned, with his vision being blurred but clearing quickly. However when he managed to clear his eyes enough, he noticed a metal ceiling and looked up from his current position, pausing midway when he heard the Magos.

"Prevention instead of reaction. To prevent the Lord General from being hospitalized a second time by poison, his digestive organs must be replaced with more "efficient" replacements"

He shook his head a bit, confusion ringing in his head, before he stopped as he came to realize what the Magos was insinuating.

"Isn't what your doing an overreaction? Yes, he was poisoned. Yes, I pumped his stomach, gave him some medi gel for the bleeding and the drugs that Private gave him were effective at stopping it, But it doesn't give you the justification to conduct emergency without his express consent." A female voice argued, one laced with shock. The screeching of a buzzsaw nearing his face made Alston feel mighty uncomfortable.

He laid there, trying desperately to lean into the bed or not breathe as the saw was mere inches away from him, his eyes wide open with surprise.

"Ah, you're awake, Alston, now hold still—"

"Turn off the saw!" He screamed in a hoarse voice, leaning as far into his bedding as he could. The saw shut off as quickly as it turned on and retreated back into Nokia's robes. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Chakwas was startled at his words, or rather the fact that he could actually speak. She voiced as such. The Magos simply stared at Alston's throat for a moment, his omnispex scanning and alerting him that his friend's throat was indeed fully healed. Why it was, he could not say but he was aware that only Space Marines can regenerate this fast.

Alston was just a normal, Imperial human… as far as Francis knew.

"This is Intriguing. Your medi-gel is truly remarkable." The Magos praised with his guess.

Chakwas was unsure. "But I only applied a thin coat, lest I clog his airway. It shouldn't have healed tha—"

"What the hell were you gonna do with that saw? Where am I?" The impatient patient demanded as he looked at the Magos, swinging himself off the bed and almost fell before righting himself with a hand on the edge.

"Simple, to perform replacement surgery on you so you would not succumb to poison again. And you are in the Normandy's medbay."

"Replacement surgery?"

"Yes, I would like to know why you tried to cut open my patient and where would these "replacements" be? I don't see you carryin—" Chakwas said, giving a stern look at the Magos alongside the Lord General, before she stared at what the Magos brought out from within his robes.

In the man's mechanical hand… was an metal box, engraved with the symbol of the Magos' forgeworld, four horseshoe magnets arranged in a plus sign, the top one having a the Mechanicus skull and cog between its arms. He opened it and pulled out a mechanical liver. "This, among your other digestive organs."

"Frak this shit, I'm out!" The Lord General all but ran out the door leading to the rest of the ship. Walking past the Magos, who was still holding onto the liver and with a somewhat joyous look, and giving Chakwas a courteous thanks and a word of advice, "Don't bother asking him where he got the box; I don't even think he himself knows."

Chakwas, who was even more confused than disturbed at the Magos' supposed magic trick, but took Alston's word for it and nodded dumbly as the man quickly left the room.

"Lord General, you're alright?" The voice of Private chirped up with surprise and glee, before the sound of a hand hitting metal was heard and a female shout of pain.

"Dammit, Yeoman. What in the Emperor's balls did I do to you I just woke up and why did you slap the metal side?" Alston yelled.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Medical Bay**

 **Twenty mins later….**

"I thought you were kidding when you said you wanted to operate on him." Shepard glared judgingly at the metal man. "Then I find your 'patient' demanding access to the armory so he could 'proceed to shoot some sense into you'. And after hearing what Chakwas had to say, I'm inclined to let him."

Shepard was glad that Chakwas was not here, she was currently helping Kelly deal with a injured hand.

" 'Fool him twice, shame on him'." Quoted the defendant.

"I'll take the chances," the plaintiff declared as he sat on the opposite side of the Magos, still in his tight cerberus armor. "Especially from what I know of Ad Mech medical practices, the only way your cutting into me is if I'm dead or dying."

"Which you were."

"Not what the medicae said; don't lie to me, I heard her. I'd rather trust someone whose job is to _keep me alive_."

"Do you even have a license?" Shepard asked Francis, cutting into the growing argument.

"Yes. It is called 'Magos'."

Cassidy looked unamused at the answer. She turned to Alston for an explanation, expecting the Magos to be making stuff up. "Is that true?"

Alston gave a tentative shrug, "Magos Nokia is somewhat correct, He should be a Magos Errant if I remember correctly. So he tends to dabble in many fields, though I suspect he's less studied in medicine and more so in… live dissection." The last two words were a growled out as he looked none-too-happy at his friend.

"Vivisection, my dear Alston." Francis corrected happily.

"That does not make me feel better, neither does that reference."

"Either way!" Shepard butted in yet again, "You can't just spontaneously operate on people without their consent or need. That's unethical, tru—" She was interrupted by booming laughter from her audience. Mainly from Alston who started struggling to breathe in his chair, while Francis stood still and just chuckled in a rhythmic beat like a out of tune beatboxer.

"What are you two laughing about?"

" 'Ethics'!" Alston and Francis answered, the former wheezing.

Francis ceased in his chuckling as he looked at Shepard, who was getting visibly annoyed and baffled at what they just said, "It is crucial that high value individuals of the Imperium are in service for as long as possible. If bionics, our word for cybernetics, need to be implanted into them to ensure this, then so be it. That is why I am as you see me, in addition to being closer to the Omnissiah's image."

Shepard had only one thing to say. "Can you at least explain where did the organs come from? I'm positive that you weren't carrying a box like that back on Omega," She gestured at the ornate box sitting at a nearby desk.

"I hid it in the medbay when when we first got onboard."

Even though Nokia's poker face was on par with the volus' and quarians', Cassidy nodded. It sounded somewhat plausible.

If this ship had not an AI, which was aware of all that happened "inside her", so to speak.

She'll ask EDI later is to confirm.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Port Observation**

"Care to explain what happened while I was under?" Alston asked Francis as they walked towards their quarters. Both of them having been sent off by Shepard after their talk. "Cause I was pretty sure that I had more points being used then what I have right now, I remember having about three hundred and ninety-four, and now it's down to three hundred and forty four."

"A squad of ratlings ate a missile and was promptly incinerated into a fiery demise while assisting me.

"Was it your fault?" He quirked his head.

"No, Shepard shoved aside a missile launcher that was in her face," Francis debriefed.

"That's actually kinda badass." Alston admitted.

"Indeed." The Magos agreed as they both stopped in front of the door.

"I am still quite pissed at—fuck!" Alston yelled as he hopped back from the door as it opened. Outwardly, Francis wasn't fazed. Inwardly, he squeaked in fright.

The blindfolded face of Astropath Ezek was at the door. So close was the Astropath that he would be mere inches away from Alston's face, if he wasn't a head shorter. The old man gave a short bow as he took a step back, leaning on his metal staff.

"My Lord General, I see that you have recovered from your injuries and are well."

"Yes, yes. I am well but can you tell me how you knew I was—"

"Coming? I am a psyker. I can sense every soul in this tiny transport, I would however be more familiar with yours." Ezek answered back, as he made way for the both of them to enter.

Both of them entered the room, seeing that it was still just as they left it. With Private laying down on a nearby bedroll for a nap. The two Skitarii, Alfa and Ranger, who were staring out the window had turned towards the Magos in unison.

Fives, the Lord General's servo skull, flew out of Alfa's robe and hovered next to the man.

Ezek pulled out a piece of parchment from within his blue robes and held it out for the Lord General.

"I have received and written out an astropathic message from Planetary Governor Nes, it was marked rather urgent and for both of your attentions," his throat carrying the words with a somber, tired tone. "He has also asked that he receive a response at your earliest convenience."

While Alston took the note, Francis was confused by the implications of Ezek's words. "So soon? It normally takes weeks or months to message through the warp."

"That is correct. But I feel the Immaterium not as a raging storm, but a stagnant pond that has not been disturbed for a long time. And a pristine one, as I have not come across any warp creatures so far, but I know better than to let my guard down."

Francis pondered this. It would make sense that the warp would be calm or somewhat non-existent, for the warp was never supposed to exist here in first place. Plus, the lack of any warp capable species would extinguish the chances of it existing, due to the need of emotions to sustain it.

But these are different times. Theories and possibilities about the involvement of using psykers in this universe began to circulate in Francis' head. Whether they would risk creating the gods of Chaos due to their involveme—

"Snap out of it, You should give this a read." Alston thrusted the paper in his face, startling his friend back to the present.

He bookmarked this train of thought for later, perhaps he should include Alston in this ride? The man was more well-versed in warhammer lore than him.

He took hold of it in his artificial hands. One of his optics zoomed in, and he perused the parchment.

It was written in ornate calligraphy. The edges of the parchment were detailed with tiny prayers and symbols, which only served to enhance the words. If he did not know that the Astropath had written this out himself, he would've assumed a machine did it.

However the beauty of it did not match the message's contents, which if shortened to its most basic form and removed of filler, was a simple request for permission to expand past the planet and to colonize the remainder of the system.

Why a colony of less than 100 souls would require the need to expand to the solar system would need some answering.

"Why would so few men undertake such a gargantuan task?" Was his paraphrase.

"I do not know," Ezek replied, "May I speak freely?"

"Granted." Alston allowed.

"Perhaps it may be planning for the future? The Adeptus Administratum is known to plan by the centuries, if not millenia," Ezek suggested. "It would also not be out of place for Planetary Governors to do the same."

"He does have a valid point, Francis. I see no harm in granting it." Alston said, throwing his decision in.

"It's only been two days, eighteen hours, forty-six minutes, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five seconds since we last spoke to them on the colony. How can one-hundred souls settle the entire planet?"

"I do not know, Magos." Ezek answered. "I merely read and translate the messages I receive from my fellow Astropaths."

"Ask of their current status on the planet. More specifically, their population, thei—"

"I see no need to do that, It would make little to no difference if we waited or not. Ezek, tell the Governor that he has my permission to do whatever is required. Not sure about the Magos' side, though." Alston countered. "Besides how are they even gonna get off the planet in the first place? With wooden spaceships and helium balloons?"

"Belay that. That is why I'm asking for their status. You and I have left them with nothing but a few squads of Guardsmen, a taurox and a fireteam of Skitarii. And here they are, asking us to go and spread their reach throughout the system. You can see why I'm concerned."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing? You do know that we are suppose—" Ezek cut Alston off as he murmured something in a wispy tone.

"Someone approaches, she seeks you and the Magos, my Lord. She bears news and feels… annoyance."

Just as Alston was about to ask who, the doors flew open, Shepard walked through and looked at the both of them. "Magos, Lord General. The Illusive man wants to talk to us, mainly you. Now."

Both of them followed. Francis knew better than to annoy Shepard. Alston just before he left the room gave a hand gesture that translated to, "Send my message, now." before hurrying along.

Ezek nodded and pulled out a quill and parchment, nestling himself on a nearby sofa, and started to write very slowly and carefully.

* * *

 **Normandy SV-2**

 **Communications Room**

"Alright, I'm gonna have to give you two some advice about the Illusive man." Shepard began as the elevator doors closed behind them. "Don't trust the man. He knows how to convince you to see his ways."

 _"Guy can't be that bad,"_ Alston whispered to the Francis, in High Gothic. _"Seems kinda counter-productive to be working for someone you hate."_

 _"Hard to turn away from the person that A) Resurrected you. And B) Is the only person doing something about a large scale crisis."_ Francis chirped back at him via vox, making sure to disable his speakers for this. Alstons bionic implant apparently has a built-in vox, which Kelly's slap had turned on by accident, to the Lord General's surprise and displeasure. He did not know he had something like that.

 _"How in the warp did you do the parentheses?"_ Alston asked back.

"What was that?" Shepard asked

"He was wondering if it was bad to insult your boss." Francis translated.

"He's not. More an ally who's also an extremist, xenophobe and megalomaniac. Basically you." She pointed at Francis.

" _Wait till she sees the Adeptus Ministorum… then she'll see a true xenophobe."_ Alston said, giving a small chuckle, as both of them approached the doors to the communications room.

"How cute," the Magos abridged, as they stepped into the room. "We have worse.".

"How much worse?"

"So bad we had to make them a part of the government and state religion." Alston muttered, watching as the table slid into the floor and a column of orange light appeared before them.

"Time to meet the man himself," Francis said as he stepped into the light, followed shortly by Shepard and Alston.

Upon stepping through into the column. Shephard, Francis and Alston were greeted to the hologram of a man sitting upon a chair, a giant star behind him and and a lit cigarette between his fingers. Steel blue eyes that glowed with their own light appraised the two leaders of the Imperium with faint intrigue.

The two friends only had one thing to say about this: _"Dramatic, much?"_

* * *

 ** _AN_ :** Took us long enough to get here. It's been what, three months?

 **CoAN:** Do-overs and procrastination, YEEHAW!

 **AN:** Procrastination is his word for: Getting mauled by his cat and not wanting to write. Anyways we have finally finished a short chapter after a rough time at 1)jobs. 2)Physical injuries from said jobs and in the CoAN case 2.1)Emotional trauma.

 **CoAN:** 2.1 is a lie

 **AN:** Anyways let's get to review time. Speaking of reviews, Guests, please make a account so that it's easier for us to type our responses. It gets awkward when we answer Guest A's question but we meant to answer Guest B's or Guest C's.

 **Artyom-Dreizehn:** Thanks for the review, what we did that chapter was intentional and we hope it will have a affect later on.

 **Seabo:** To be honest we rolled for the name and we got Private. So in other words, we rolled Private Private and thus he was born a mangled mess.

 **Spartan-A312:** No need to wait… Look, it's a chapter!

 **Grudgematch, Emperor Palps, Guest, timgr** : Thanks for the reviews and hope you continue reading.


	12. Mercenaries, Idiots, and Questions

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

 **Flashback**

 **Aquarius**

 **Prime Isles**

Alston did not know what to say or do, as he stood on the grey sandy beaches of an unknown yet familiar place and faced the ocean in front of him. In the far distance, he could make out the enormous skyline of a hive-city. Entire forests of metal pillars, the smallest one being the size of large skyscrapers; rose from the deep and kept the gargantuan city afloat above the roaring ocean. Glittering lights that darted slowly above it and below it, signaled spaceships of varying sizes, enhancing the sight.

The name of this place was on the tip of his tongue.

He switched his gaze downwards to the sea, seeing the tide slowly growing and forthing in ferocity as storm clouds overhead darkened the sky. Each inhale smelt of saltwater, each gust of wind ruffled his overcoat and chilled his face with a sting. He felt the beach, saw the beach, but he didn't hear it. This area felt like a moving wallpaper, the only sounds he picked up were the words his double spoke, smiling fondly: "Feels good to be back home after all these decades, or was it centuries, away? Does it not?"

"This isn't my home…" Alston countered, although it sounded like a lie. He felt that this wasn't his actual home. He vaguely recalled living near, not on a ocean, he thinks. Yet, it felt strange to say it.

"Come now, Alston, surely you remember the prank you pulled on the Principle at the Schola?"

A memory surfaced at the words. An old augmented man clad in rich robes and jewelry, fat with arrogance and literal fat, wobbled towards his office holding a cup of Recaff. He opened the door, only to trigger a bucket filled with fish guts, rotten algae and unmentionable liquids to tumble on him; staining the rich coloured robes a filthy dark brownish green.

The smell lasted for days; the man's fury even longer as he began a witch hunt through the academy to find those responsible. Eventually deciding to vent by blaming a local juve gang and carting them off to servitude.

They both bore smiles at that. But then Alston's flipped. "It wasn't a bucket o'fish, it was a bag of cockroaches."

" 'Cockroaches'?" the double asked, unfamiliar with the word, as he sounded it out slowly.

"Small insect like things that are impossible to kill, even with a flamethrower. Believe me, I tried. Housing authority got me banned."

The double swished this info around in his head for moment, then shook his head, deeming it unimportant. "What about that one time where you rigged a ship with explosives in its warp drive and had a bio-ship eat it?"

Another memory surfaced. A damaged Imperial warship trying to desperately avoid the literal jaws of a monstrous ship. Its maw opened wider and bigger then the ship itself, its limping prey shooting at the hunter with what few guns remained. The ship was saved from its doom by another ship, a cargo freighter, speeding past it and into the giant's mouth. It closed it, having felt something enter, before it ballooned as the cargo ship detonated its payload, killing the bio-ship as it was sucked partially into the Immaterium.

Both again smiled, the memory of the pride and accomplishment upon succeeding at said task, along with the feeling of a duty being accomplished.

"And what about your first campaign against the orks on Falsum Somnia? Near the ancient hives of Spero? Where our regiment and our old friend, Magos Nokia, crushed them in their scrap strongholds?" the double again questioned.

Alston tried to remember this time, the memory not coming clearly like the others, if it even happened as he massaged his forehead. A warm throbbing feeling building up within, for a split second,.before he ignored it.

He vaguely, if just barely, recalled something like that taking place in a store… or perhaps it was in a imperial bunker. His forces were arranged on a one side of a wooden… no, holographic table with the Magos alongside him, both of them ordering their forces to advance on the man… warboss. The sound of the warboss screaming in front of him. No, on the vox constantly bellowing orkish swears as his 'boys' fled and were overrun by rough riders and fanatical skitarii.

"I-I think so—Wait." Alston shook his head, deciding to change topics as his mind cleared momentarily, before more thoughts began to cloud his head. "You mentioned you had to talk to me back in that other dream, or was it a memory? that you were waiting for me?"

The double had a miniscule frown, not pleased at the sudden turn in conversation, but regained his bearings as he stood up straight.

"You were supposed to be instructed on how to conduct yourself, or rather 'myself', on being a Lord General and as a leader of the Imperium. It was to happen while you slept, like now, but you never slept in _three days_ since you came to this unenlightened warp-hole. What managed to get you to sleep was a xeno of all things, one that tried killing you with a spiked drink." The double brought a gloved hand to his eyes and massaged them, before fixing Alston with a gaze that made him feel like a little kid that did a wrong. "How inattentive of you. How rash of you to accept a free drink from a sneering face like that. The signs were there. Besides, we have much better drinks."

Alston just looked at the mirror-man, weirded out at the scolding being dished out. This person was correct about one thing and he didn't want to admit it: He had taken this whole situation like he would back home. A man stripped of his life, forced to live in what was technically a video game universe from what he was told, and what did he do? Resorted to the only thing he knew, drinking. Which was surprisingly not as effective here, and following around the only person he recognized, Francis, currently dubbed Magos Nokia.

He knew he was not a great person, instead he preferred to go with the flow, but nonetheless he tried to come up with some defence. Some way to at least regain a bit of pride.

He was denied as he opened his mouth.

"Not to mention that you're now frolicking around the universe like some kind of Rogue Trader. What do you expect out of this endeavour? Something that looks like it came out of a Juve-brand holo show, where you would save the universe from the xeno threat with your band of heroes and misfits? Magos Nokia, or should I say, 'the idiot in hi—" A steel-toe boot to the groin cut him right off; he fell to his knees with a squeak as admantinuim plate met cloth and flesh.

"You can criticize me all you want but don't bring the retard into this. Besides, get to the point, all I've heard from myself is bitching. What is the _point_ of this talk? If you're here to berate me, congrats, you did it. Now get out or get me out." Alston fumed out, his face the definition of impatient fury.

"Exactly… what I would've done in this situation," the double commended Alston's turn of attitude with some effort, holding on to his groin for a moment, as he breathed deep and forced himself upright.

His quick recovery from the hit impressed Alston, not much can recover from a hit by him like that so quickly, and the double appeared as it never happened. He still backed up a step to get out of kicking range, just in case his double decided to get 'vengeance, he would if he knew himself correctly.

"I see, I may have gone a bit too in depth with my review of you, and I apologize. Your behaviour these last few days were… _degrading_ to say the least. I had even tried to warn you to not drink that xeno concoction, yet you did."

Alstons amusement morphed into one of confusion as he thought back to that incident, "You can give me headaches?"

"I could, took much effort, which was wasted and not again for some time. No matter, what I initially brought you here for was to tell you this: You are on a schedule. You following the Magos around is a waste of time and resources. Time and resources that could be used to extend your influence and your strengths. There were more of your ilk here than you think before," he replied cryptically, as he looked away from Alston and towards the horizon.

The skies began to quickly darken, as the storm began to grow and the seas froth with whitish blue foam. "Time's almost up. I'll be seeing you later," the double alerted.

Alston was about to ask how the double knew until a wave of vertigo hit him, forcing him to sway from his upright position and he felt a uncomfortable pain in his head. He had one last thing to ask before he woke up, so he spoke quickly, "Does Francis have someone like you?"

The double chuckled as he nodded. "Yes, but we can only visit you during sleep. Any other way would be… rather troublesome for us; but Magos Nokia, the original one, has forgone the need for sleep with his 'augments'. So I bet you a throne or two that he's kicking himself in the ass for doing that right now."

Alston couldn't help but laugh loudly before he faded away. Leaving only the quietly chuckling double alone on the beach.

Night began to fall, covering him in slowly in darkness. The double looked at the floating hive city in the distance, the lights beginning to shimmer like the stars in the sky, and gave a smile that seemed to have more teeth than humanly possible.

* * *

 **Normandy SV-2  
Communications Room**

"While not obtaining the mech is a minor setback, it doesn't hold a candle to whom you've met." The Illusive Man, with a slow drag of his cigar, turned his eyes to Shepard's flankers. "Greetings, Magos Nokia and Lord General Alston. I am the Illusive Man, the head of the organization known Cerberus, humanity's shield."

"Do you have a name as well? It tends to make addressing people a lot easier." The Lord General queried, a bit curious at the man playing a game of cloak and dagger.

"I surrendered it a long time ago."

"Then we shall address you as 'Tim'." Magos stated, which had the Illusive Man tighten his lips a bit in distaste, and Alston gave a quick chuckle; he always enjoyed seeing people suffer.

"I like it." Shepard grinned, yet she had some reservations about this meeting.

The only response the man gave to that was to take another puff.

"I would still prefer to be called the Illusive Man." He stated, looking at the Magos.

Thier was a moment of silence between both of them, as both kept sizing up the other.

Alston decided to butt in, hoping to calm the rising tensions, aware of who they were talking to thanks to Francis and his 'game knowledge'. "Perhaps we should switch this to another subject? It would be a good idea as to know why you would want to talk with us." He spoke loudly, breaking the brief silence.

Both of them stopped looking at one another and turned towards Alston

"Agreed." Both of them said at once, before eyeing each other.

"Why I asked for you two was to inquire if it is possible for me to have a diplomatic overture with your respective governments, this Imperium and the Adeptus Mechanicus, and if possible to meet someone able to make agreements," He inquired as he took a long puff, slowly exhaling the smoke, as he awaited an answer.

Shepherd maintained a neutral expression, however deep down she did not want this to go successfully. God only knows how much damage Cerberus can cause with directed energy weapons. She had hoped that she could've gotten them to the Citadel first, she was too late.

Alston seemed to be in thought, trying to figure out the most appropriate answer, and hoping that it wouldn't contradict the 'story' the Francis gave them. Sadly he never bothered to review what Francis wrote, proving to be too long even for him. His mind drew a blank as a stream of answers came and were quickly discarded.

Luckily Francis decided to answer.

"As the Lord General and I are the high ranking members of our factions, we are able to negotiate on their behalf."

"Then this is rather convenient. The reason why I wanted to see if it might be possible for us to have a trade agreement. Cerberus might not be particularly rich in resources, but for a budding colony such as yours, it would be more than sufficient to sup—"

"Unnecessary." Francis interrupted, hoping to end this discussion as soon as possible. He also did not want to give the man any technological advantages. Omnissiah knows what he would do with Laser weaponry.

Shepard inwardly smiled at the frustration on the Illusive man's face. It quickly turned to a frown as Alston slapped Francis upside the head from behind, a metallic clang of ceramic gauntlet meeting adamantium head, before chiding his partner.

"Let him finish, I want to know what the man has to say."

The Illusive man gave a nod of thanks to the Lord General, "As I was saying, we could help supply you with whatever you require. Information, technologies and even our assistance, if needed."

" _We are dealing with the devil here._ " Francis quietly warned Alston, who moved in front of the Magos as if contemplating something. While the Illusive man continued to list things that might be of interest or of potential value to the both of them.

'Better a daemon we know,' Alston thought, looking bored at the Tech-priest before fixing TIM with what he felt was a Commissar's stare. "What would you like in return though? I am unable to provide much at the moment and I doubt that our colony could provide much until it has reached a more reasonable size."

"Is it not possible then to gain access to your 'Las' technology or at least a few weapons. It would give _our_ Humanity an edge against the Collectors, the Citadel and any alien threat."

* * *

 **Shepard POV**

Shepard stared at the Lord General, hoping that the man knew who he was dealing with. Deep down she was somewhat furious at the man's decision to negotiate. However he did also have to represent his own government; which from what she's seen so far, happened to hate aliens and comprised of humans and these 'ad mechs'… so this should be like an oil fire.

If there was something that pissed her off more than people that talked in riddles, that reporter so deserved that punch, it was politics.

She quirked her eyes towards the Magos, who was focusing intently at the Lord General, to gauge his response. He seemed to tense up with agitation and she quickly spotted something poke out, a small familiar metal barrel. She knew what that was, it was the Magos' laser tentacle or mecha whatever. It was out of TIM's line of sight, while just barely in hers, and… it was pointed at the back of the Lord General's head. The man being completely unaware.

Was he really going to kill him? She knew that both of them claimed to be old friends. Friends don't try to kill other friends out of the blue.

Either way, no one was going to die on her ship. She readied her omni-tool behind her back to launch an overload program at the Magos. Before the captain of the Normandy could send it, the Magos spoke up.

The gun slinked back under his purple robes.

"Absolutely not. They have not received the Omnisiah's blessing, therefore they cannot hope to possess the knowledge nee—" The Magos spat, the fury in his voice tainting it with static before Alston shut him up with a raised hand.

"I wasn't going to," The Lord General said, raising his hands in a placating gesture to the Magos before he turned and looked directly at the Illusive man.

"It is impossible. The current technology is too cumbersome and complicated for mass production. It is something that is much out of reach for an organization like yours, let alone any of the other species," The Lord General smiled reassuringly.

The illusive man looked over at the man, taking a drag from his cigar.

She quirked her eyebrows at that statement, having remembered the relatively large amount of those weapons being lugged by those 'Aquarians', and was about to ask the Lord General about this until she stopped herself.

"How would you explain the group of soldiers holding those weapons?" TIM was on the same page as her, it seemed.

"They were my personal guard," the man stated with a small smile, "You wouldn't expect a General, let alone a _Lord_ General of the Imperium, to be without a well equipped and armed guard, of course; that would be _ludicrous and stupid_." The last words had a manic lilt to them.

The Illusive Man simply stared at Alston for a time before cocking his head in concession. "You're not wrong there. But what can you give, and what will you take?"

The Lord General lifted his hand to his chin in an exaggerated pose, before he released it. "I would require… some time to think about your offer. I am sure that I can put together a list of what might be possible to trade, though I am afraid it will be scant little, until we are either resupplied from our home systems or we manage to set up the manufactorums ourselves."

"Manufactorums?"

"Giant factories."

"Very well, that would be appreciated. You can contact Miranda, she will forward it to me. As a gesture of diplomacy, I'll have my people deliver some supplies and equipment. Consider it a gift, It should prove useful."

"That would be much appreciated," the Lord General smiled. "I believe that we can work something out soon between our two groups."

The man nodded before the hologram disappeared and the Lord General, his face blank, turned and looked at both of them. "It went well, didn't it?"

He was greeted by silence.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Armoury**

"You need something, Miranda?" Jacob asked her looking up from his work, changing the blocks of metal in their guns and doing some last minute checks, and noticing her approaching him. He lowered the disassembled rifle, setting it down amongst the parts as he looked up at her.

"Yes, I want your opinion on this." She said, pulling out something from her pocket and held out her palm, which Jacob noticed was a brass casing.

He took it and looked it over, his thumb feeling the cold metal, and he noticed a partially burnt mark of a human skull and wings. An very faint chemical smell emitted from the used round. This was rather rare, no one used propellant weapons anymore, though it doesn't answer why Miranda would have this.

"Where did you get this?"

"It was after we distributed the cure, I noticed it on the floor as we left. Most likely from those 'child' soldiers that were assisting us. The markings on it are unusual."

"You got that right," Jacob agreed, staring at the burnt skull and wings motif on the body. The size of the cartridge alone hinted at a rather large caliber. "And these are some big rounds, too. My shoulder would feel it. Those kids must've had a lot of padding."

"I wouldn't know. What I am more interested in is how these kids got them and how did they punch through kinetic barriers effortlessly."

"Maybe this could be a clue," Jacob pointed to a large, ornate gun from off to the side of the workbench he was in front of. Beside it was a sword, with a long cylinder strip in the middle that ended with a small ball up the spine of the sword, and a pommel that ended with a golden tassel combined with a fancy sheath beside it.

"...Is that what I think it is?" Miranda gawked. It was bulkier than a Carnifex with a large muzzle break and a banana magazine. Every plate of its steel frame was trimmed with gold filigree, and there was a small plaque containing words in a cursive script. And above it was an embossing of a double-headed eagle with its wings spread, also in gold.

"Yep. When the Lord General was admitted to the medbay, a crewmember brought his weapons here for storage." Jacob picked up the bolt pistol, keeping his finger off the trigger, and felt there was some weight to the gun.

"Why didn't the Lord General's men take it? They've been persistent about not letting me have a look at any of their weapons."

"Not sure, they must've been busy." Jacob suggested. "It's a lot heavier than most pistols and there's an ejection port here." He pointed, then grabbed the slide. "So let's see what we're dealing with."

He pulled it back and a round ejected out with a loud click and fell onto the bench with a light ding, going into a slight roll before stopping. "... That's not a thermal clip."

Miranda ignored Jacob, her hand reaching out, and picked up the round, feeling the weight as she lifted it, and brought the used casing she found up. Comparing the two side-by-side.

The round from the Lord General's pistol was more wide and not as long as the one she found, a dull metal-like tip at the top. However, she did note one key thing, they both had the same symbol: A skull with wings.

"We have a match," Miranda smiled.

"Why would he use an antique when he was energy weapons, not to mention that sword, I've never seen anyone use weapons like these?" Jacob asked to Miranda, with a questioning tone.

Miranda gave Jacob a glance. "I don'—"

It was then that they both heard a commotion coming from beyond the door leading to the CNC. The door opened to show full view, Shepard berating or questioning the Lord General for his potential trade agreement. While the Lord General, tired to hide a irate face, walked in with the Magos, staring forward with a cracked optics besides his other two .

The scoldee was at first amused by this, but as more points piled on as to why that was a bad idea, he frowned, wanting her to _cease her badgering at once_. The Magos was making it worse by dittoing her through the vox.

The Lord General, oblivious to the presence of Miranda and Jacob, turned to Shepard and stated, "I understand that you view this negatively, but I do not see how you or your judgments factor into the decision making of a foreign power. If you would like, please contact your "System Alliance" and have them contact my people, maybe we can work something out. But first… I want my weapons back."

Miranda did a slight of hand and hid the bullets behind her back, slipping them itself into a back pocket, before looking towards the door as if nothing had happened. Jacob extended his arm to quietly put the big handgun back next to the sword it was with.

It was then that the Lord General noticed the two looking at him, surprised at him being up and about. He looked at them skeptically before noticing his weapons on a bench near them, walking over and began to gather them. Strapping the sword to his waist and picking up the heavy pistol.

He paused as he lifted it up, a look of discomfort on his face, inspecting it for some noticeable flaw.

"Something feels off…" he said, as he held the pistol up high.

Miranda merely looked at the Lord General as if nothing was wrong, but sent a glance towards Jacob.

"Why do you carry that sword around if it's just for show?" Shepard asked the Lord General eyeing the bejeweled sheath. It was strange to see such a thing in her opinion, besides a few people here and there dueling for fun, sport or mostly ceremonial purposes. She has never encountered someone actually carrying a bladed weapon to battle, besides the Magos and him.

The man stopped looking at his pistol and hostered it, turning his head towards Shepard with a puzzled look. "It's not for show…"

"Look at that, it's a museum piece." Shepard pointed out.

"Are you to say my axe is as well?" the Magos questioned, as he reached into his robes and pulled it out. His weapon, while less flashy, had a baroque look to it. The blade, shaped like half a cogwheel, had various runes chiseled on it.

Shepard rounded on the tech-priest, noticed his axe for the first time, and she gawked.

"Actually, yes."

The Magos pulled on the haft, and it went from axe to poleaxe. "This 'museum piece' is beautiful no matter where it is, be it in a glass case or a xeno's torso."

"Oi, Magos, stop showing off to the locals!" Alston butted in, unsheathing his sword. "By the way, these can do something more _interesting,_ " pulling out his own sword, and looked at Jacob. "Is there something you don't want or need here? Anything would do."

Jacob scanned the room with eyes, before settling on… "That crate over there is empty." He gestured to something at the end of the room.

"Thanks," The Lord General smiled a bit, approaching the crate. Feeling the grip of the sword, he felt the activator button and pressed it, it greeted him to a _snapping_ sound as a field of energy engulfed the sword. A blue hue glowed off it as small tendrils of electricity flickered here and there.

Raising the sword high and then swinging at the empty crate, the disruptive energies with the blade crackled as it touched, shearing through the metal crate with ease and leaving behind ruined metal . The man turned it off and look back towards his audience, only to be greeted with stunned faces… and a irate Magos.

"You said 'don't show off'."

"I did. I said, 'Magos, stop showing off'. I never mentioned anything about me."

The Magos was not entertained, but it was short lived, as Shepard directed a question to the Lord General.

"You have _… a lightsaber_?"

"It's not really a saber, more of a falchion and it's definitely not light. Feels comfortable in my hand, though." The man answered back, to Shepard's disappointment.

"That's due to the ergonomic handle." The Magos chipped in.

"No one asked you, I'm trying to form a bond with my weapon here." The Lord General chided the Magos as he sheathed his sword.

Shepard rolled her eyes at the antics of the two, rolling her eyes and deciding to ignore them. The clock was ticking and they had enough of a break, Archangel was a priority now.

"Jacob, Miranda, suit up. Let's go steal a vigilante."

"We will meet you at the airlock." The Magos chimed in, preparing to send a message to his retinue to meet him, while the Lord General seemed tentative.

"Nope, no, you two aren't going. Nor your Skittery or whatever Alfa and Ranger are called."

"Skitarii." The Lord General corrected her with a raised finger.

"Yes, that. The Lord General is still on medical and you got your eye busted." Shepard point out the cracked optic on the man's face.

"It is good that I—"

" _Nope, no, shut up, you tinker prat."_ The Lord General said in high Gothic, raising a hand to the Magos' face and cutting him off, the back of almost touching the Tech-priest, then looked to Shepard. "You're absolutely correct, Commander, I and my friend will stay behind."

"Good, that's settled, then." Shepard concluded as she left the room, not waiting for the Magos to say something. Miranda and Jacob looked at one another, before picking up their weapons and gear, following quickly behind and leaving the room to the two Imperials.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Port Observation**

Francis looked over the improvised workbench at the mini bar, laid out in front of him, as he carefully scrutinized each and every item. The surface was littered with sacred tools, holy oils and even scraps of parchment and blessed waxes. However, among these things was an item that reflected the Mago's mask/face and its shattered optics: A mirror that was borrowed from Private's kit.

He took a deep, steadying breath, watching as his hands slowly reached upwards, feeling the small bumps and scratches and moving behind it. With the sound of pressurized air exhaling, the clamps released themselves.

Francis needed to see what his new face looked like.

Only for him to frantically secure them when he heard Alston entering the room, followed behind by Private.

Francis turned to face the man.

"Ow, my balls." Alston whined as he hobbled in, adjusting his General's armor, the decorated carapace chestplate and greaves appear his frame. Private walking beside him, holding a visored helmet with a breathing mask, and passed it to him.

"Why are you wearing your armor?" Francis asked, as his lenses flickered on and off before staying a steady dim blue.

"Because it's comfortable." He said as he adjusted a few more pieces, before standing straight.

"No, I mean why do you look like you are going out?"

"Because we are," Alston flicked his head at the door, "I've got some scores to settle off the ship."

"We?... But my mask is broken," Francis protested.

"And that didn't stop you earlier. You had two eyes before in life, you got two eyes now. Learn to use them."

"But my depth perception." Francis complained. His Skitarii guard having switched their attention from the window, towards the arguing duo.

"You need two for depth perception, now move it. You owe me one… or three."

"But they are on one side of my head."

"Then slap on a big googly eye. Do I have to think of everything? You're the man with a literal computer for a brain." Alston pressured Francis, giving him a questioning look, as if he was not stating the obvious.

"But is your brain not also a computer?" Francis retorted, hoping to distract Alston and derail him.

"Technically, no sinc—wait, no! Move yer ass or I'll have Private shoot you." Alston gave his ultimatum.

Francis turned his head to the man's right, looking at the short guardsman whose eyes popped open upon hearing what his General just said. His optics began to glow with amusement or irritation.

Trooper Private stared at the seven-foot tall, armoured Magos who happened to be more armed than—and might outweigh—a Leman Russ battle tank. He checked the power setting on his lasgun to ensure it was on the highest setting possible, wondering if it would do much.

It wouldn't matter. The Magos would be on him like an hungry halfling to an unguarded mess tent before he even unshouldered his rifle. Not to mention the two Skitarii that stood near the window, staring at him suddenly, reminding him of the carrion devil-sharks back home. How they would always follow and stare at lone or weak swimmers before striking, dragging them down before tearing them apart.

"So… You gonna come or do I have to sic him?" The Lord General raised an expectant eyebrow at his friend, uncaring of Private's nervous quaking.

"Might as well. We must check on our salvaging operation, anyways." Francis gestured to his retinue as they proceeded to move to stand next to him.

At the concession of the Magos, Private gave a sigh of relief before he stood at attention.

"Will your Astropath be coming?" Francis asked. He always wanted to see what a psyker can do in battle.

Alston looked over his shoulder and then back at Francis. "He's… occupied for the next while."

"So… any more questions?" When no more came, Alston smiled. "No? Good. See you at the airlock. And don't forget to bring your weapons, you're gonna need them." Alston briskly walked out the door, not even bothering to wait or hear the response.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2**

 **Main Airlock**

"What do you mean we can't leave?" Alston demanded the ship's AI in the eye, angered at this restriction. Francis, his retinue and Private were lined up behind him.

In front of them was the airlock, its holographic controls were colored red, meaning it was locked. Much to the annoyance of a

"I am sorry, Lord General. Shepard has mentioned that you were not to follow her," EDI instructed, her voice indifferent. "You attempting to leave the ship fourteen minutes forty-five seconds after her would suggest that you may be following her. In addition, you have not been cleared by Doctor Chakwas. You must return to the medical bay."

Alston quirked an eyebrow at the glowing mushroom hologram.

"... But I'm fine. Look, you can hear me and see me, my voice is fine. Now let me out," He said, waving his hands and flexing his fingers, at her. "Besides, I don't want to follow her. I got some of my own business off the ship, I need souvenirs of course."

The door still remained locked.

Alston turned his head to Francis. "Can you do something?"

" 'Can' I?" Francis countered with the countenance of a teacher correcting a student.

Alston's face reddened at the Magos' antics. "Don't fuck with me, 'cause I will fuc—"

A pneumatic hiss interrupted him, announcing the airlock opening. In stepped a grizzled man in scratched armor, a large scar around his right eye, which was a milky white as opposed to his left's gunmetal blue. A medium sized crate was being carried in his arms.

He stopped at the confusing sight of the crowd surrounding the door; three unknown and bizzare looking mechs stood near a man with a bionic right eye that comprised of a majority of his face, along with another human in more archaic body armor behind him. All of them armed and staring right at him.

His eyes narrowed at the group. "Are you here for me?" he growled.

"No, never seen you before in my life," Alston responded calmly, before yelling to his party as he ran past the scarred man. " _Door's open_!"

The Imperials rushed past the man, following Alston who sped down the corridor.

The man stood there in a daze, a faint "Thanks for the help, mate!" echoed down the walkway. He shrugged to himself before murmuring, "Where the hell did Shepard get those guys?" and continued his way into the ship.

"Welcome aboard the Normandy, Zaeed. Shepard had notified me that you were coming," EDI greeted.

* * *

 **Afterlife, Omega**

"Send in the next one!" a batarian's voice rang out from the room an armoured man just exited. The guard signaled for Shepard to step in. As the doors closed behind her, the music and voices cut off leaving only the sound of typing.

The batarian looked up from his keyboard at her and smiled. "Well, aren't you sweet." He returned his gaze to the keyboard, already disinterested. "You're in the wrong room, honey. Stripper's quarters are that way."

Before he could say more, the frowning Shepard pulled her pistol on him. "From what I hear, you need every gun you can to take on Archangel, and I got plenty, big boy."

The receptionist didn't look scared. "I can see that. Alright, then. You each will be rewarded five hundred credits once the job's done; it will not raise to seven fifty each should one of you die. You have your own weapons and armor, so that's an automatic 'yes'—you can put the gun down, now—Lasty, I must stress that even though you've been signed on for this mission, this does not mean you're new blood to either the Blue Suns, the Eclipse nor the Blood Pack; you came here on your own, you will leave on your own. Any questions?"

"Is Archangel that much of a nuisance that you all decided to gang up on him?"

The recruiter snorted into a smirk at that. "Your no local, huh? Yes he is. Shipments get stolen, operations get busted, Manpower gets reduced." He shook his head with a sigh. "It went on for so long that Tarak and the other bosses decided enough was enough."

"I assume Tarak is the Blue Sun's boss? And who else leads this attack?"

"You got that right. Jaroth's the Eclipse' Moon and Garm's the Head of the Pack. Surprising that we're all working side-by-side in the first place, but as you humans say, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'."

"Okay, last one before we go. What will we be doing once we're there."

"Last I heard, the freelancers, that's you, were to distract him while the rest of us try to sneak in through the back."

"Bullet sponges…" Shepard groaned with a roll of her eyes to the ceiling. "Fantastic."

"You can opt out," the batarian offered with an uncaring one-shoulder shrug. "but given your kit I think you're well used to being one. A Sun that'll take you there is a little ways to the right once you leave Afterlife. Send me the next one!" The batarian yelled, and the doors behind Shepard opened wide.

A young man walked in, wearing a bright yellow jacket and a gung ho attitude, cradling what looked to be a collapsed gun. A big one. Though even then he seemed to have issues carrying it, judging by the exertion on his face.

"Is this where I sign up?" he huffed.

Shepard's chest tightened a bit with unease. "Aren't you a little young to shoot people for money."

The boy wheeled on her, not fond of her words. "Hey, I'm old enough! I grew up on Omega, I know how to shoot a gun."

"So does Archangel," Jacob commented.

"I can handle it. I got this sweet machine gun for ten creds from some midget in a cloak outside." He set the thing down. The thing more or less fell to the floor with how heavy it must have been "I _have_ to use it, and what's a better test drive than taking dow—"

Everyone, including the batarian who stopped typing, was surprised when the torso-sized gun unfolded, revealing, yes, a big machine gun. The official color scheme of red and black was hastily painted over in a dark green.

Miranda was first speak, "Is that a Revenant?" Her eyebrows reached for the sky. "And you bought it for _ten_ credits?"

The boy looked at it, unaware of the gun's model and name, then at Miranda. "I don't know, a gun's a gun—" The kid was enveloped in a glowing blue shell, frozen in place. The gun in his hand tipped over before automatically compacting itself.

Shepard's right hand stopped glowing as she walked up to the LMG and stooped to pick it up, before she neared her face it's previous owner. "Listen, kid," She began her dissuasion, "This is me saving your life. I believe when you said you said you know how to shoot—I mean look at this place, you kinda need to, but you're going against a man who slaughtered hundreds of battle-hardened people here. What's a stringbean baby-face gonna do to him, huh?"

The kid could not speak, his body still stuck in stasis. His eyes though, answered for his mouth.

They showed fear.

Shepard thought herself a kind individual, saving this kid from suicide by vigilante. He had his whole life ahead of him, why waste it here? She reached towards her Omni-tool, unplugging a chit from the compartment. "Here, fifty credits for compensation. Buy yourself something that's _not a gun_ and don't come back here." She tossed it at his feet and walked out the room, with Jacob and Miranda in step behind her as they proceeded to leave the noisy club.

* * *

 **Kima District, Omega**

"Good luck. Try not to die."

And with that, the batarian chauffeur closed the skycar door and flew off to grab more lambs to the slaughter.

They walked past the various barricades of the Merc encampment. They couldn't help but admire how one person had managed to survive this long. One of the mercs peaked his head over the barricade, only to fall backwards with a jerk of his head and a blood mist. His body landed on top of a crate and was then dragged off, by another merc in similar armor, and laid next to a small row.

Shepard was impressed. This would be someone she could get along with quite well, if they managed to get him out alive.

Miranda decided that now was perhaps the best time to talk to Shepard, as they left that barricade behind and proceeded forward into a maze of hallways. "Shepard, I have something you should see. It's about those 'kids' that helped us with the cure." Miranda reached into her pocket to get the empty bullet casing, and passed it to her.

Shepard took and examined it, noticing the burnt symbol on it. "You found this there?"

"When we were regrouping with the Magos. Now, I want you to look at this," Miranda reached into another pocket and pulled out a bullet, this one a higher caliber, and passed it over.

"They have the same symbol," Shepard observed, bringing the two side by side. "Where did you find this one?"

"From the Lord General's gun." Jacob chimed in

"That casing begs a large question. The Lord General was here for less than a few hours, most of which was spent with Chakwas, and I checked the surveillance footage along with EDI. He never left the Normandy carrying anything besides his weapons. The Magos is also guilty of this."

"So that would mean…"

"That they may be lying about first contact or their hiding something from us. There is no way for him to smuggle, arm and then train a group of people in that short amount of time, let alone a group of kids stuck in an isolated quarantine zone."

Cassidy was the picture of confusion at the moment. These two came so out of the blue they might as well be asteroids on a cloudless sky. And asteroids they were, ever since they showed up they caused no small amount of confusion and dismay for all they came across. Stories of conscripting people by the millions, regardless of age; a supposed millennia-old civilization of humans and aliens, at least from what she could tell, who were hard-enough xenophobes to make Terra Firma look like barking puppies. And not to mention, now that she recalled… how did they end up on that planet without a ship in orbit. The Normandy should've noticed something, especially considering that it had the most powerful sensors available.

She needed to know just what these guys were and how much of a problem will they end up being.

A talk _will_ be had.

"Commander Shepard, a situation has occurred," Edi called through the radio, Knocking Shepard out of thought.

"Yes, EDI?"

"All but one of the Imperials, Ezek, have left the ship despite your orders."

Shepard blinked, not expecting a situation like this. "Did they say where and why?"

"The Lord general only mentioned that he had business off the ship, I lost track of them as soon as they left my external cameras. I can only assume that they are following you."

There was much. To. Discuss.

"I'll deal with them after this. Archangel has priority now."

"You're in the wrong place, freelancer." A bored krogan in red heavy armor drawled at Shepard when she entered the room. An armed vorcha stood beside him, though it seemed to be just as equally as bored, More vorcha were sitting around the room, either on cots and the floor or checking their weapons idly. The gunfire, screaming and explosions in the background seemed to do nothing for them but provide calming music.

Shepard figured that she must have taken a wrong turn after she messed with the Eclipse's mech stash.

"You must be Garm." She greeted, calmly looking at the krogan. The Vorcha beside him hissed at her, but the Krogan slapped its head, and it adopted a submissive posture.

"Yep, and that's all you need to know about me. I'm stuck here waiting for you freelancers to stop playing war. Now ask your questions and go."

She asked questions about what the Blood Pack were compared to the other two merc bands, why Garm wanted Archangel dead, and his his thoughts on the vigilante. Information was power after all, and she wanted to know as much as he could about this 'Archangel'. But all throughout this interview, Shepard couldn't help but keep glancing at the massive piece, which resembled more of a grenade launcher then a gun, resting on the krogan's lap. It was big even for him, and painted in a dark red, with obvious signs and marks that showed modifications of sorts.

"What's that gun you got there?" Shepard pointed at it.

Garm looked at her as if pondering whether to answer or not, then made up his mind.

"Got it off a slave the Blue Suns gave me a week ago. A sort of incentive to get me to partner up for this attack, not that I needed it. Gesture is appreciated, though. He's supposed to go to the batarians for their blood games, but Archangel put that on pause. Never thought humans could get that big… or ugly, but he'll make a hell of a show." He patted the oversized shotgun. "Thing kicks like a varren, heavier than one, but it hits harder than a mad elcor." He chuckled at the last bit. "I can't wait to rip the turian to shreds with this."

As Shepard conversed with Garm. Miranda and Jacob both couldn't help but be reminded of the Lord General's pistol with how bulky it was, along with its all-metal frame.

* * *

Exploding the bomb that was on the floor, killing the three men near it, didn't tip her fellow freelancers on the stairs that she switched sides. They must've simply thought that the two of them had tripped a mine or something.

What really clued them in was one of them found himself being **lifted** up into the air and hosed with machine gun fire, his dead body rolling downwards with every step. His partner, noticing the burst of fire aimed at his direction, ducked behind cover as the shots peppered the wall behind him. "She's siding with Archangel!" He shouted. Only to die seconds later by headshot from the vigilante's sniper rifle; being too distracted with Shepard.

When the Shepherd trio peaked the stairs. They came across a guy using his omni-tool to wield the door open, the man too distracted and focused to notice the change of events. Cassidy put him in **stasis**. "Miranda, launch a warp at him when I say. Jacob, pepper him until he catches fire afterwards." She adjusted her hand on her new gun's foregrip to be on the Carnage launcher. "Hit it!"

Lawson did. The welder was smashed with a blue explosion, slamming him on the door. Jacob took his turn as the guy tried to orient himself from his confusion to his feet, only to burst into flames from a incendiary shot, flailing around and screaming. Once lit, Shepard shot him with the Carnage.

BOOM!

The door was painted blood red with fleshy bits for highlights.

"That was… messy." Jacob grimaced at the mess, before turning around and sweeping his gun to ensure that no one came up from behind them.

"I've made messier," Shepard commented as she approached the door, stepping on what may have once been a hand, knocking on it a few times before it opened automatically as if allowing them to go in.

Shepard shrugged, before motioning for Miranda to follow her in with Jacob to follow behind, moving past the corner to reach what would be a very spacious second floor bedroom; If said bedroom was not filled with weapons, stray thermal clips and not to mention Archangel. Who was sitting at the window on the other side of the room, facing the bridge with his Mantis sniper rifle aimed at something shouldered.

"Archangel?" She called out, their guns lowering at the sight of the turian.

* * *

"Get back here, Shepard! They're breaking through the door." Garrus alerted through the comms. Which was followed by a few muffled booms announced themselves, adding only to the urgency of her old friend's plea.

She and Miranda were already on it, running through the bloody and body-strewn hallways after sealing the last shutter door to the back of Garrus' base.

She had been delighted to discover that Archangel was her best friend and rushed to hug him; albeit to his surprise, relief and chagrin.

It had turned out in the two years (still felt like a few days) since she'd been dead, he'd quit his job at Citadel Security, claiming it to have so much bureaucracy that he felt he was on office-arrest, doing nothing to cull the crime rate. Coming to Omega felt like a breath of fresh air. Not literally, no.

They'd have talked more but the Eclipse began their assault, fouling Shepard's mood. Thanks to her hacking the YMIR mech on the way in, the defence was a cakewalk as it turned on their owners. It concluded with one end of the bridge covered in mech parts and yellow-clad bodies in various states death, one them being their salarian leader.

This leads them to her and Miranda's current errand, as the Blood Pack took this opportunity to flank Garrus from the rear. He needed those entranceways shut off and she volunteered. Howbeit, she knew that she couldn't leave him alone, she had Jacob stay with him.

She didn't know him for long, but she had a feeling that she could trust him.

As the two women rushed up from the basement to the base's first floor, just in time to see it flooded with vorcha and krogan, with the latter speeding for the stairs, one of them lugging a big-ass gun.

Shepard went to shoot him, yet her angle was bad and she stopped seeing his head when he got halfway up the stairs. This was exacerbated further when the vorcha began to fire, forcing her into cover behind a wall.

"Boys, Garm is heading your way!" Shepard yelled into her headset. Miranda tossed a grenade forcing the enemy to pause shooting as it destroyed their shields.

"I see him, has a new toy t—" Garrus responded but was cut off, by a series of loud blasts and a roar of glee, as large pieces of concrete and debris fell down to the ground floor dusting those below in dust.

"Garrus! Jacob!" Shepard called out, but was soon forced down into cover as her barriers began to run low.

A varren charged towards her, its paws slamming on the ground as it propelled itself towards its meal. Just as it was about to pounce on Shepard, unamused and angry, reached out her left hand. It glowed blue and she yanked it back, **Pulling** the beast along. Suddenly propelled much faster towards its target, the verran flew past Shepard and zoomed muzzle-first at the wall a few feet behind her.

With a crunch and a splat, it died on impact.

Shepard took the chance and ran out of cover to left-flank the two of them squatting behind a couch, swapping out her LMG for a shotgun at the small of her back. The gun finished unfolding as she turned the corner, staring down her sights at the vorchas' faces; they snarled when they saw her and tried to raise their weapons. Her shotgun snarled back, with a harsh bark, spitting burning buckshot that caved the first one's head. He fell back, unobstructing her view of the second one, and she proceeded to fill his lungs with hot metal.

The air soon smelt of burnt meat but Shepard was undeterred as she darted her way towards the stairs, eager to help Garrus with Garm and his giant gun. In her haste, she didn't see the last vorcha rise up and aim at the first human Spectre's back, chuckling at the flank shot she provided him.

But with his rise, he in turn exposed himself to Miranda. With a flick of her arm she sent a **Throw** at his head. It hit his temple, the sudden appliance of tremendous force not only crushed the spot, but tilted his head far enough to snap his neck. Miranda cocked the charging handle of her Shuriken machine pistol, ejecting a glowing-hot thermal clip for a cold one, then rushed after Shepard up the stairs.

Once the Commander reached the top of the stairs and onto the hallway, her shields depleted to 40% from a krogan shooting her with a shotgun, calmly walking forward towards her as his bulk blocked her path. She dove to the cover of a bookcase, as the krogan responded by firing another shot, this time missing narrowly and digging into a wall.

The krogan jolted a bit, as a violent cascade of electricity engulfed him thanks to Miranda, who now hunkered a the top of the stairs, across from Shepard.

Her enemy bereft of shields. The Billion Dollar Woman leaned out of cover, putting shots on the krogan's head and chest, staggering him back a few steps. Though this angered him more than hurt, thanks to the heavy armor he sported. He roared at her, whole scraping the floor with his boot. Though before the krogan charged more than three steps, he was sent sprawling on his ass, five feet backwards, thanks again to Miranda **Throwing** him.

Shepard nodded to her in apreciacion, as well as relief, for no one wanted an angry krogan in their face.

" 'Randa, help me freeze him," She requested, fiddling with a few buttons on her shotgun with her off-hand. The red-orange holographic overlay over the length of the barrel flickered off for a moment before turning back on, this time a light blue.

Miranda dittoed her, and the two woman started hosing the krogan down with frigid grains of metal as he tried to shuffle to his feet.

He felt like he was pelted by hundreds of snowballs. Each that hit flesh burned where they landed turning the area white with frostbite. Muscles contracted from the cold, going stiff with a crinkle of ice, and the sensation quickly began to spread. Soon enough the krogan's whole body, armor and all, was frozen solid in a half-crouch, his face twisted in fury and pain.

Shepard sprinted to the right of krogan, the railing behind her now, and with a sharp yank and a quick duck, the toad-popsicle was **Pulled** over the edge and shattered into frozen chunks on the first floor.

As she was about to pass through the door to assist Garrus, a roar made her pause.

It was Garm's gun, the volume of it making her wince as it echoed through the room, even though her helmet, his shoulder bucking harshly with the amount of recoil the weapon made, while belching a beach ball-sized flame. Metal was sheared, furniture was blasted to shreds and most bone-chilling of all, Garrus was screaming in pain.

Garm cackled gleefully until as his gun ceased firing with a click. The krogan looked at it in annoyance before he screamed at where Garrus was hiding behind. "I got you now, Archangel! Try and kill me with only one arm!"

Jacob peaked out of cover at that moment, taking advantage of Garm's gloating, and sent a **Pull** after the gun while firing a quick volley with his Predator pistol. The biotic orb landed and the weapon was ripped from the krogan's hand, while the gunfire impacted on Garm's barriers, distracting him. The weapon was sent skidding across the tiled floor and landed by a table.

Undeterred, Garm responded to the man's **Pull** with a **Warp**. Jacob ducked back behind the ruined sofa, which the Warp impacted instead. The high-quality leather started to bubble and rot, contorting and shredding itself. Garm took advantage of this lull of being shot at to whip out his his backup weapon, a folded Claymore shotgun, from behind his back.

It was then that Shepard and Miranda barged into the complex, the former ordering the latter to hit the Blood Pack leader with a surprise **Warp**. Once it connected, Shepard tensed up. Time slowed down to her, along with everything shifting to a single shade of blue, with Garm being the focal point. Then with the abruptness of a jump cut in a movie, the back of Garm was in Shepard's face.

Her **Charge** was devastating. The biotic explosion from the two powers interacting, coupled with getting hit with the force of a skycar going 40 miles per hour, made the krogan merc boss careen into a wall.

Or would have, had his barrier broke on impact. Instead, he stumbled forward a step, growled, and swung clockwise. His shotgun crashed into her helmet's side with a loud crack.

As stated earlier, no one wants an angry krogan in their face. The main reason being that they are the strongest known bipedal species in the galaxy. Bearhugs can crush spines, a weak punch can leave a bruise; a strong one can break bone or, if on the head, give a concussion, or knock a person out cold.

In saying that, the right cheek plate of Shepard's helmet dented when hit. Even the visor wasn't spared, a deep, spider web fracture reaching to the center of the glass. The commander was thrown across the floor, skidding to a stop at the table.

"Good try, freelancer," Garm complimented her, before taking aim at her head. "I don't know why you three are helping Archangel, but it doesn't mat—"

His omni-tool lit up as it cut him off mid speech, its speakers blaring as a krogan on the other end started frantically screaming at Garm; gunfire, booms, screaming and a ringing noise of metal pellets hitting metal added to the panic in his voice.

"Garm, the Blue Suns are in our base! They are using some new kind of mec—!" What sounded like a crash cut him off before the connection died.

Garm took a moment to process what he heard. He came to a grim realization: This was a trap of Tarrak's making. With him and Jaroth, along with the majority of their best forces, out of the picture trying to take out Archangel. He would have free reign to take over the rest of Ome—

An **Overload** from Miranda interrupted his ponderings as electricity coursed through him. Jacob took the opportunity and rose from cover, rapid firing at Garm. Such a volume of fire successfully broke the krogan's already weakened barrier. Seeing that he was now free of biotics-nullifying field, Miranda went to bring him down with a **Slam**. This move involves squishing the target and **Pulling** them in the direction of the ground at insane speed, usually pulping the target.

Garm, however, was not as squishy and still managed to remain whole. Albeit, with his armor dented and cutting into him in numerous sections, spurting orange blood out the wounds. he was enraged, as his eyes turned bloodshot and adrenaline coursed through his body. Him, being toyed around like a baby pyjack, it was unbecoming of a krogan battlemaster. He picked himself up and began to coarse with biotic energies until a voice stopped him.

"Hey, Garm!"

He looked down, finding a familiar giant shotgun pointed at him. The human who held it was sitting against the table,

"Boom!" Shepard pulled the trigger, and her arms rocked violently, as the gun ejected large smoking casings from a the side.

And boom it went. Everyone's ears rang as the first shot was launched, the gun belching a fireball that lit up the whole room. The buckshot nailed Garm in the belly, a dozen large orange geysers rose from it as the ball bearings punched thier way inside, wrecking intestines and pureeing his stomach. Next round hit the chest and jaw, flailing his ribcage into micro shrapnel, popping every lung and exploding his heart. The next two slammed into his head and hump, flattening the former like it was hit with a spiked shovel, and rupturing the latter like a water balloon.

It ended up a wet mess. Shepard, being the closest, was dyed a very bright orange. Her arms shook, her ears whined…

And her face was open with shock and awe as she looked at the almost vaporized krogan.

"Jacob… Check Garrus," she ordered numbly.

* * *

 **Normandy SR-2  
Medical bay**

The window looking into the medbay was tinted a solid black. Shepard sat nearby and stared at it, as if she could pierce through it with her gaze. It was a standard procedure during surgery for the windows to be tinted or at least covered, but one she felt only made it worse for her to endure.

She had sat here for what seemed like hours, impatient and worried, waiting for the two doctors to finish their surgery on Garrus.

Running her hands through her recently washed hair, she thought back to the gun Garm was using, having taken it back with her and stored it away, although she had a close enough look on the way back after dealing with Tarrak and his Suns.

It was not a gun powered by M.E. (Mass Effect) fields, that was for sure, as Mass Effect guns don't have giant muzzle flashes or eject spent casings the size of her fist if not bigger. The fact was only cemented further when she noticed the markings on the casings, markings which bear a similar resemblance to something Miranda showed her, as instead of a skull with wings. It instead displayed a grinning skull wearing a peaked cap and crossbones in the background.

This only gave her more questions to ask for her eventual interrogation with the Imperials. However, before she could ponder more on this, the doors to the Medical bay opened with a whoosh.

"How's he doing, Doc?" Shepard shot up from her chair at the table and hurried over to Chakwas when she exited. She gave her a tired expression before Mordin, who volunteered to help and which Chakwas was glad to take, followed behind. He greeted Shepard with a smile.

"Stable and sleeping. Sadly, Needed to amputate arm, wound site too damaged to repair. Extracted a few bullets embedded in the bone. Alarmed at the size of them. A large caliber gun, much larger than a Claymore. That gun you brought in, was that the cause?"

"Yeah, it's in the armory, might have dislocated my shoulder with how much recoil it had. Ow," Her left hand flinched away from her right shoulder. "But that's warranted, it almost vaporized a krogan."

Mordin frowned at her shoulder, then his eyes widened at her words. "Truly? Must to see weapon for myself, most curious. But back to the patient. Not fit to fight until replacement is procured, Even then, needs time for assimilation."

Chakwas spoke up, an idea come to her. "Why not ask Miranda to order one?"

Shepard smiled evilly at that. "I'll be sure to do that. and to make sure it's the most state-of-the-art model with all the bells and whistles."

"Uh, Commander," Joker sounded of from the intercom. "The Imperials are back. And, uh, brought a stripper with them. A big one."

"Finall—what?" Shepards mind, alongside Chakwas, went blank. While Mordin seemed to be curious about what the pilot meant by 'Imperials'.

"Yeah, they seem really banged up. Must've been one hell of a bar fight," Joker joked, though his confusion was apparent. "EDI wants to know if we should let them in."

"... Don't move, I'm coming up." Shepard started walking.

"And you might want to take Chalkwas with you."

"Mordin, may you go in my stead while I prepare for them?" Chakwas sighed once again, as she looked over at Mordin, with exhausted eyes.

The salarian nodded with a smile, eager to help and to sate his curiosity about these 'Imperials'. "Certainly."

The two left Chakwas and the Medical bay behind. Approaching and entering the elevator as their footsteps echoed on the metal flooring, as it powered up and began its slow ascent, and she thought to herself, amid Mordins humming to himself, What she was going to do next with them.

She had questions she wanted to ask: Where did they go? Why did they find 'Imperial' weapons on Omega of all places… and most importantly, why would they bring a stripper back to the Normandy? The last question could simply be a false alarm due to Jeff cracking jokes as usual, but given the fact that the Imperials were largely an unknown, she had to wonder if it was valid.

"Who are these Imperials?" Mordin queried to Shepard, causing her to snap out of her thoughts. The doors opened and they both disembarked with her leading the way to the main airlock. "Are they perhaps the two in purple when we met? Rather intriguing, have questions to ask them. "

"Two _of_ them, yes. Those ones are from what's called the Adeptus Mechanicus." Mordin quirked his eye at her, as he was gonna ask an obvious question. "No, they're not part of the Systems Alliance. I'm not even sure they're human. Either way, you'll see them now. _After_ I chew them out. Open up, EDI."

The two now reached the airlock leading out of the ship. Shepard crossed her arms, putting on an "angry mom" face.

The airlock opened up.

'… _Barfight, my ass.'_ Shepard thought when she saw the state they all were in. Her mouth was agape, while Mordin stared at the 'imperials' trying to figure out what happened.

Alfa looked as if he had been set on fire, his armor was blackened and robes browned. Yet it didn't look like much harm was done, merely cosmetic damage. The Magos, who was standing to the left of Alfa, didn't exactly look better. His armor sporting dents with scratches all over; the front of his cloth had so many holes in it, he might as well be wearing a fly swatter. And the hose that once extended from his mouthpiece of his mask to his robes were shredded, making his breathing sound like a broken scuba mask.

Ranger was considerably better, in some regards, less banged up but still in a similar condition to the Magos.

Then her eyes averted to Private… who looked as if nothing had happened to him, unusually pristine clean. The Lord General on the other hand, was tied up and being supported by Private. It was as if someone had pounded him with a sledgehammer or two. The visor on his helmet was wrecked, revealing what she saw was an incredibly bloodshot and dilated eye. The helmet which might have once been impressive looking,an almost gothic knight look, was more like unusable scrap. His armor was in just as bad a shape, with a giant noticeable dent in the middle, and not to mention stained in dried red and orange gore. Though the main thing was that his right hand was bandaged, and by the looks of it… she can assume that he only has his pinkie and thumb left.

Shepard then blinked a few times, noticing something odd with the backdrop. Why was it flesh-colored and scarred to the nines—it moved.

It did it again. And again.

She peaked out the airlock and looked up, and up. Her vision at first saw a broad chest then an extremely thick neck until she saw it.

Someone had the weird idea of taking the head of a human baby, slamming it repeatedly on the floor and letting it grow up to adulthood, and then hacked it off and placed it on top of an extremely muscled human body that would make bodybuilders and even krogan feel inadequate; it bared arms and legs thicker than an elcor, standing at roughly ten feet tall… and it was looking down at both of them with its hazel eyes.

A childish grin that showed few teeth emerged.

Mordin blinked, "Was not aware humans grew that big."

"Yarp," the giant said, as if answering him.

* * *

 **AN:** HAPPY NEW YEARS! Has it been a year since we published a chap?

 **Co-An:** But tomorrow's February.

 **AN:** _Shut it_ , its New years for the story. Besides this counts as Christmas also… since it was supposed to be out by New Years. However, Life decided to get a baseball bat, some friends and beat us hard

And I was drunk and deleted the chap.

 **Co-An:** To celebrate we brought to you an extra long chap. Please do not expect similar word-counts down the road, we write in a "Let's stop here" as opposed to "Each chap must be X thousands words long". This I find, even though the former is more organized, it feels constraining.

 **AN:** He does not like to be constrained… he likes to be 'entertained'.

 **Co-An:** Yes…

 **AN:** We bled so you may read… On another note, we may be taking a temporary pause with this story as it's the Co-An's turn to write an 'abomination' of a story.

 **Co-AN:** Translated, he means we're actually going to crack down on my piece. We've been putting it off for almost a year now (New Years notwithstanding)

 **Co-An, AN:** Please write a review for the Chap. It allows us to see what need to be improved as we are experimenting with different writing styles.

 **Co-An:** If there is any part(s) of the chapter, be it good, bad or ugly, let's us know what and why.

 **AN:** We won't hurt you… and no one would believe you otherwise.

 _No one._

Now for the user reviews and our responses.

 **Terence, Zerochance117, Chronus1326, Terror Dark Calws Army, CommissarBS:** Thanks for the reviews.

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Gothic.

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	13. Ready, Set

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

*Please leave a review. We want your honest opinion.*

* * *

 **Afterlife**

 **Omega**

" _So, can you explain to me why we are standing outside of Afterlife?"_ Francis asked a concentrating Lord General, who had spent the last five minutes staring blankly at the building in front of them.

The group was currently standing a fair distance outside of a bustling club, near the mouth to an ally, as the neon glow bathed them in a faded pink light. The sound of the abomination, known as _the music_ here, could be faintly heard, as partygoers, both human and alien dressed in a variety of wear, left and entered the building in various states of inebriety and excitement.

The Imperials were mostly ignored. Save for a few who eyed them curiously; whether it was in interest or with more malicious intent. However, the giant golden Aquila on Alston's chest plate and the richly decorated weapons on his waist weren't helping to deter people either. Though the sight of the two intimidating-looking skitarii had sent a clear message for them to stay away.

 _Far away._

Alston was deep in thought as he stood in place for the last few minutes, before he looked over at Francis, having heard him say something but not catching the words _. "You happen to have a spoon by any chance?"_

" _Why would you need a spoon?"_

" _For reasons that may involve using it to scoop something out,"_ he hinted vaguely, with a slight smile. _"But you do have one?"_ Giving an expectant smile.

" _I should,"_ Francis resigned. He had a feeling this was going to be a stupid idea; the man certainly had his moments. Yet those moments tended to be covered up by his mistakes. Mountains of them...

" _Great. Private!"_ Alston had a happy grin on his face before motioning to Private, who was leaning on a nearby crate.

The man, once tired and resting, suddenly stood straight and moved quickly towards the General, as if someone had injected him with a shot of energy, and ended up in front of his Lord.

" _When we get in and I give the signal, I want you to grab the person I'm talking to and hold him down. Don't hesitate to break his limbs and bones if you have to."_ Private nodded without question, eager to finally do something, though a hint of confusion could be detected. It was quickly buried by his desire to do his duty.

" _Alston, what are you going to do?"_ Francis worried.

" _Nothing much, but I'm gonna need you to scoop the guy's eyes out while I'm beating him,"_ he said nonchalantly, the dim lights giving his face a sinister look with its neon glare _. "He fucked with me and I will fuck him back!"_

" _You punching the head would move the targets in an erratic pattern that will make your request difficult. Has there ever been a game of Five Finger Fillet with a moving hand?"_

" _There will be once I get my hands on that four-eyed fracker."_ Alston squeezed the air like he had the guy's neck in his clutches.

" _... If you are referring to the bartender that poisoned you, your anger is wasted. I have drowned him after you passed out."_

Alston looked at Francis like he was speaking in another language.

" _I killed the poisoner with the poison he poisoned you with."_ Francis clarified. " _The whole bottle."_

Alston visibly deflated a bit, as if someone popped his favorite balloon. _"The whole bottle?"_ He quirked his only eyebrow.

" _It is his new windpipe."_ Francis cheered. The Tech-priest looked over at Afterlife before turning back to Alston. _"I do not react kindly to my friend's would-be killers."_ _Besides, I knew that would happen._

Alston merely patted his friend on the shoulder and smiled. _"I'm touched. Bit miffed about the lack of revenge but touched. So what now?"_ He looked around, at the club at first before staring at the mass of moving bodies. " _I don't think I got much to do here… though I feel like I'm forgetting something."_

" _That would be your ratlings. I was gonna ask for a status report from them."_

" _Oh yeah,"_ Alston brightened up a bit. _"Though, we have to find them first. Should be easy if we just vox them."_

" _Lord, I found one,"_ Private alerted, pointing at a nearby alley. Francis and Alston peered over, making out the faint outline of what looked to be a man in a puffy jacket and a toque, arguing with a way shorter person hiding beneath a cloak. Both seem to be trying to haggle over something, though it seemed that whoever was in the cloak was getting irritated.

" _That was easy,"_ The both of them voiced at the same time. They started pushing their way towards him.

* * *

"For the last time, I do not have a refund policy! All purchases are final, ya daft fracker. I am not some fracking street vendor!" The dwarvish man rebuked harshly, pointing upwards at him as his cloak fluttered. "We also do not have a _warranty."_ He spat the last word, disgusted by it.

"Look, man. I just had some crazy biotic chick take my gun. I just want to get a bigger gun. I got fifty creds here and that's five times more than what I had last time," the man bartered, hopeful. "I'll take anything man."

"A bigger gun ye want? What I sold you was the biggest I had. Something smaller would do y—"

They were both interrupted by a loud fake cough. The dwarvish man peered behind the punk, his eyes scanning for whoever made the sound, his pale face began to look even paler. While the man with the toque ground his teeth and turned to confront the person, Annoyed and eager to show off his machismo.

He spotted the figure approaching them. Despite the alley being partially covered in darkness, seeing the gold paint glinting off the man's chest. He walked up with as deep a scowl and as high as possible.

"Hey, I was here fir—" he threatened, before a strong kick to the groin put him down. The attacker paid him no heed, as he stepped on the man, ignoring his groaning and walked to the vendor.

The vendor looked up and gave a nervous smile _. "Lord General, good… whatever time of day it is here. Glad to you have your color back."_

" _Yes, poison tends to leave one rather pale."_ Alston frowned at the ratling, trying to recognize the man's face but to no avail.

" _To what do I owe the honor of your visit? And the Magos', too?"_ The ratling asked as he saw the Magos standing beside the man, noting their retinue following both of them. He paused at the sight of the one called Ranger using his customer, well ex-customer at this point, as a platform. The faint sounds of a bone or two cracking, whenever she shifted her balance, made him wince internally. He was most likely not going to make another sale with this guy.

" _Captain Dalgoi,"_ the Magos stated, recognizing the ratling's voice. The accent along with with the attitude was familiar, not to mention the cocky tone.

" _Yes, I am Dalgoi."_ The ratling said with a hint of hidden amusement.

Ignoring the comment, Francis pressed on. _"Why were you selling the weapons I ordered you to collect?"_

Captain Dalgoi didn't respond, at least not right away. " _With all due respect, Magos, your orders were 'suggestions'. We were not under your command, but assisting, but don' worry, we have lots of loots. This was just my share."_ giving a reassuring smile, hoping that the Magos would not be interested in making a ratling sized servitor. He knew he would make a horrible one, not that he wanted to be one, but that would not deter a persistent tech-priest or an angry one.

Francis did not know what to think. On a physical level, he stood like a statue and peered down at the ratling. On a mental level, he wanted to spit out blood and curses but he refrained, until the urge to shoot the abhuman for his 'actions', demanding him to do it. If not for the backtalk, for the loss of knowledge, the loss of technology.

His mechandrite began to untwirl from underneath his robes, lifting it just slightly before falling, as if a breeze brushed it. He paused, recollecting himself and taking a deep breath of filtered air from his tubes, and then his optics narrowed at his target.

Dalgoi looked up in return, unease and a spike of fear shot through him, as he wondered if perhaps he should've been less… 'relaxed' with the way he talked.

" _Where is my stuff?"_ Francis demanded, his vox coughed out in a strained fashion, holding back something much harsher, as pieces of electronics began to give off colorful sparks or vibrate intensely.

Dalgoi at this moment had decided to perhaps not push the Magos any further. "They're located in a warehouse we requisitioned, just down that-a-way and through some corridors. Bit of a walk but it's nice and quiet, and there be no one asking any questions." Spitting it out quickly and gestured to where the group came from. Hoping to direct the Magos' optics to look elsewhere, anywhere for a moment.

" _Take us there."_ Francis moved his head nearer to Dalgoi, who stared at his many reflections being reflected by the shattered optic lenses. He could only nod, as led them out the alley, hopping over the groaning man, with the party following behind him. The sound of footsteps, from armored boots and metal limbs, followed behind.

As Dalgoi neared the exit. He quirked his ear as he heard the Lord General speak. _"Think you blew a fuse?"_ The man joked. Only to be responded by the sound of metal meeting flesh and an incoming whoosh. Dalgoi instincts flared momentarily, as he quickly dodged to the left, and a yellowish human form flew past him and crashed into a trash can, with a loud clang and crumple. Dalgoi took that as a cue to move faster, his tiny legs shuffling quickly as he adopted a brisk pace, and decided to not look back.

 _"I'd take that as a no, then?"_ said the Lord General in a sarcastic tone.

* * *

Private winced as the scent of this area hit him like an adamantium door. _"By the Emperor, where is the Janitorium?"_

Omega, from what he was told and found out, was known to be a cesspool, the underbelly of the galaxy, and it shows. The long walk had lead them to a section of the station where, for starters, it smelled like proper shit. Well at least more than the rest of the station. Private was used to the salt of the sea, the burning of laser fire and singed ozone, the smog of industry, the gore of fellow Guardsmen, none were as unpleasant as this.

It reminded him of an ork camp.

What he would do for a respirator right now.

Powering through the smell, his eyes showed another horror, that being this area was a bazaar of illicit proportions. You had vendors, from humans to four-eyed aliens and hulking lizards, hawking their wares, simple items that ranged from unknown foodstuffs and shiny weapons to the more exotic, like drugs and xeno-tech. Butchers, bloodied and brandishing wet knives, sliced meat off the bones from carca—oh Throne, they're conscious!—, slavers auctioning drugged-up xeno women and men, their eyes dead with bodies modded and scantily clad to excite buyers. When he spied a few humans among the merchandise, slack-jawed while drooling and staring dumbly at nothing, Private wanted to do them a service and grant them the Emperor's Peace, though they may not know of Him on Terra, _He_ was still the father and god of all mankind and he would shepherd their souls regardless. Only two facts stayed his finger.

1) The Lord General and the Magos had ordered him to keep weapons tight, which meant that he can only fire at those who were outright hostile. No one was, yet, but the Imperials were the sight of the block with how extravagant they all looked, earning either leers, glares or thrones singing in their eyes.

2) Everyone was armed! From what he could see, each pers—xeno had either a gun or pointy/smashy thing in their hands. He did not want to be the one to agitate them, at least not without orders and risk injury to his Lord… and himself.

 _"In desperate need of implementing,"_ Ranger growled, knocking Private from his thoughts, and kicking the head of a supine turian who was bleeding out from the bullet wounds in his torso. His neck snapped from the spontaneous pivot with a crackle. "This place is teeming with filth."

Private looked at Ranger curiously, unfazed by the casual use of violence. Suffer not the xeno to live and all that... She, it sounded like a she, was a strange one. He had met a few Tech-priests before, mainly the enginseers who maintained the vehicles of the 4th Aquarian with great zeal, but he had never met one that had displayed such blatant emotions as her. Followers of the Machine-god tended to shun such responses, seeing it as a weakness if he recalled correctly, but she must be the exception.

 _"That would be a waste of resources. This whole station should be extinguished, the xeno-tech destroyed or sanctified and the xenos turned to ashes or servitors. The humans, examined for mutations, then converted or purged..."_ Alfa suggested, his numerous optics observing all, as he rotated his head steadily like a camera and eyed any hostiles; both xeno and human.

 _"Like Jeret Prime?"_ Private whispered to himself.

He remembered that skirmish rather well, a bit too well as it was the only war he'd been in. The 4th Aquarian and a few others were part of a task force that was hastily assembled to quell the ballooning civil war and to uproot the seedy underbellies of the hives.

It was caused by a Planetary Governor doing the one thing that they were known to not do; It was caring about their citizens. Although not a rare occurrence, the man decided to do it in an incredibly foolish way. Something that even the most stupid, inept and inbred of Governors would hesitate to do.

He wanted to purge the underhive of _all_ criminal activity, mutants and anything heretical. If they stumbled on something _profitable_ or bumped a few rivals, then it was just a bonus for him.

Jeret Prime's underhive was estimated roughly to be in the billions. It had been stewing in gangs, mutants and refuse for untold generations. And it was currently undergoing its annual surge of gang warfare, like how one would experience a flu season, though this one that proved to be more violent than usual.

And he wanted to provoke it by purging it clean. As if it was as simple as feathering dust off a fine wood table.

It was more akin to evicting a ruined mansion filled to the brim with kleptomaniacs.

The man had rounded up an entire army of arbites, police that would at times be more equipped and armored than elite guardsmen's, a fleet of gunships, and heavy tanks. The Governor looked down at this force and said: "I need more." So he mobilized the planet's PDF and thus bolstering this army into an army group, and sicced it on the gangsters.

He knew it would be a complete slaughter. And it was. Thousands, if not Millions, had died. But it wasn't enough, it was never enough for uprooting an underhive.

Turned out that law enforcement was a great unifier for the embattled factions and gangs. A city-wide game of Cops vs. Robbers took place, and the robbers won, spilling out from the underhive like an angry tidal wave of bodies and sewage. With their victory and armed with second-hand used military gear, explosives and weapons, they had expanded to take over the nearby hives and then the planet, hanging the governor from what remained of his once shining palace spire, but now a burning crumbling ruin.

They splintered into bickering rival groups over the spoils. It, predictably, quickly devolved into a giant civil war, as the planet was split into countless factions. It was then, the Imperial guard, who stepped in for clean up duty...

Private shuddered deep down. _"On second thought, we should leave this place alone,"_ Both Alfa and Ranger looked at him. He felt nervous as they stared at him, asking him to clarify without actually asking. _"It might be a waste of resources and effort,"_ he answered, hoping that this would placate their curiosity.

They both merely looked away and forward, keeping a cautious eye on their master. Private didn't look back behind him, but mumbled a prayer for the Emperor to watch those unfortunate souls, and made a quick Aquila.

 _'Just more examples of the evil Xenos beget'_ Private thought as they began to near the exit of this bazaar.

* * *

 _"We're close, just hafta cut through this alley,"_ their ratling guide announced, pointing at a far section between two dirty looking buildings. This alley was set between two metal shacks, wide enough for four people to be shoulder to shoulder, and 60 feet long, with a dumpster about midway. Above them were two balconies, one on each side.

As the party made it a third of the way through the trash-filled alley. A voice barked at them from behind.

"You there, human. Yeah, the one with the robot eye and fancy armor! You remember me?" or rather, a voice squeaked at them.

The six man party turned around to find a salarian glaring at them in a goofy, wide-legged gunslinger pose. He pointed at Alston, and the pointee squinted back in the dim lightning before it dawned on him who this was.

"Aren't you the one that tried to nick my gun earlier?" The Lord General asked, recognizing the unique nature of the alien's voice. "How's the thing between the legs going for you?" He taunted, uncaring of why he was being confronted, but amused.

The salarian narrowed his solid black eyes, a gleam of hatred flickering momentarily. "You got a foot on you, I'll give you that. I'm gonna have you lick it when we're done with you."

" 'We're'?" Alston inquired, thinking that perhaps he might have kicked him a bit too hard, not that it was an issue. More of an achievement, really, he's never kicked someone's brain out before. Though there was a first time for everything, needless to say. He could only see one person.

The six Imperials soon found themselves flash mobbed by eight people, wearing dirty clothes and overalls. In front at the other end of the alley were an asari and three turians. Above them on the right balcony was another asari, her left hand holding a pistol while her right glowed blue. Flanking the original salarian was another, more well dressed and similar looking to the first, and a krogan wielding a scratched shotgun.

"So, this is the human you were bitching about?" the second salarian huffed, folding his arms, and fixing Alston with an apathetic smile as he looked him up and down. "I'm surprised he let you live, with his getup."

"Shut it, Filan!" the first one pouted, "The gun on him looked expensive enough..." The xeno gestured to the man's waist. Filan quirked an eye, examining the gun and the fancy sword holster before he then noticed the mechs.

A look of greed grew on his face. _Prototypes, maybe_? he thought, and prototypes paid quite well with the right buyers, especially on Omega.

Alright, boys," Filan addressed the Imperials. Alston raised an eyebrow at what he had to say. "I'm in a good mood tonight, and my brother would like some compensation for his _discomfort,_ so, I'll give you the option of surrendering your goods. Your weapons, throw them here. Your armor, strip it off and shut off your mechs. Your jewelry, throw them at Lasius there, by the dumpster." When the name was mentioned, a turian baring light brown face paint and dressed in a dirty overall emerged, a long metal pipe in his hands as he confidently walked towards them.

Private and Dalgoi, though mostly Dalgoi, loathed the prospect of being mugged, especially by a xeno, which made this much worst. The skitarii were emotionless, but Ranger squeezed her gun in agitation as opposed to Alfa's calm and loose hands.

Francis stared at the quartet on the other side, his auspex working to provide him a visual of each one's vitals. He turned it, robotically slowly, from the asari on the balcony and to the two salarians eying them. A red numeral popped over each of their heads, in ascending order of who to attack.

The balcony asari was I: height advantage, biotics

The groupies asari was II: biotics

The dumpster turian was III: closest

The krogan was IV: toughest

The trio of turians were V, VI, and VII

The two salarians were VIII and IX

With the order set, Francis gave out his instructions through the microbeads and the Noosphere for his people. The Imperials gave an inward smirk as they processed the order of attack.

"You're making a big mistake here," Alston said loudly, his voice enhanced and slightly distorted by the speaker-vox in his helmet. "If you'll leave us be, I promise to let you go and _not_ kill you."

They all laughed at Alston, thinking his warning was a mere jest. Lasius' mandibles gave a twitch as he chuckled in his species equivalent of a laugh. He readied his pipe to swing at a moment's notice and approached the Lord General and so sure that the man was merely showing off and unaware of the short man near him.

Grinning wide under his hood, Dalgoi struck, whipping out a stub revolver, though with his tiny stature it looked too big for him, and shot Larius in the groin, lighting up the alley a bright orange for a split-second. The turian's scream startled the gangsters.

Larius fell to the ground holding what remained, blue blood stained his pants, his mandibles opened in shock, and the ratling fired once more turning his head to mulch.

The Adeptus Mechanicus moved swiftly after the first shot, Francis quick-drawing his serpentina and firing at the groupie asari, a golfball-sized glob of phosphex crashed into her skull, flash boiling it and staining her companions with boiling purple blood; at the same time, his lasgun mechadendrite peeked from his robes and hit the balcony asari. She rolled off the platform, a new hole where her heart was, dead before she hit the pavement.

Alfa drew his taser goad with a flourish, the weapon sparking as ancient energies surged through the blessed metal, and sprinted down the alleyway. Every step propelled him faster towards the raggedy group blocking their exit. Too distracted they were with staring at the still smoking head of the asari that they never noticed the charging skitarii. Like a missile he collided with the right turian, his right claw spearing the turian's chest and reaching out the back. The body went limp without a cry, his face stuck in surprise, unable to comprehend the suddenness and brutality of his death.

"What th—" Glancing at the second, horrified turian, who stared back in Alfa's optics with a look of realization and horror. The Infiltrator jammed the goad sharply in his abdomen, digging deep with its prong tip. His yelp of surprise devolved rapidly into strangled screaming and gurgling as his organs charred, his blood steamed and clothes combusted.

The third turian, just mere feet away, having witnessed his friends being slaughtered by a mech in a few breaths, decided to do the one thing any normal and sane person would do. He dropped his gun and ran screaming, his arms flailing in the air as if it would speed him up, desperately praying that he might get away.

A ruby red beam hit him in the back, boring a hole through his chest. The turian landed face down, his lifeblood pooling out. He tried to crawl away but Private took his second shot, putting him down.

Alston pulled out his bolt pistol and zeroed on Filan with the iron sights, who was momentarily stunned from the explosive movement of their victims. "Hey, Filan! Here's some bullets!" He pressed the trigger once and his hand bucked hard from the recoil. An inscribed mass reactive shell roared out of the muzzle. The propellant, a combination of fuel and unknown chemicals, activated and with a stream of fire rushed the bullet at the skinny salarian, whooshing all the way.

It was a sure shot. The salarian was not too far, just barely less than 30 feet. He had the element of surprise.

Unfortunately for Alston, salarians were fast in reaction time. Filan eagerly dove out of the way, noticing that this human was aiming at him with 'that's a big fucking gun…' and managing to successfully dodge it, landing on the ground and out of sight.

Fortunately for Alston, he had a nice and meaty backstop. The krogan behind Filan barely reacted before he took a bolt to the chest, the diamantine tip not even struggling with his barriers and the ceramic armor. The krogan's chest cavity was explosively excavated.

He blinked, looked down at his wound, and dropped dead.

Filan's brother was flabbergasted, his clothes stained with gore, staring slack-jawed at the dead krogan. He never expected the sheer power that the human's gun had. Before he could think any further his right shin gave out in agonizing pain, bursting in a flash of green blood and sparks, courtesy of Ranger's galvanic rifle.

"Brother, help me, get me out of here!" He cried desperately between his wails of pain, teeth gritted. His eyes were filled with hazy tears, either from pain or fear, and he cursed his greed and need for vengeance, arms reached out for help towards his only salvation.

Filan pursed his lips at his screaming kin, his mind racing fast for even a salarian. On the one hand, this was his brother, they did almost everything together in their 18 years of life. On the other, he was currently in a good spot, not within direct line of sight of whatever these freaks were. He could run away, stay alive, and never have to deal with someone talking half of the spoils again…

"Sorry, Yeban. You bit off more than you can chew here, see ya!" Filan fled, ignoring his brother's screams of betrayal and angst before it was silenced with a clang of metal on flesh.

[Permission to pursue?] Ranger asked her master eagerly, preparing herself to stalk down the filth that dared to attack them.

[Denied. He knows to fear us.]

She didn't like that answer. He was the last one. Xenos who retreat had a 90% probability of coming back with reinforcements. It also calmed her when she picked them off, knowing that with their death the current battle was over. It left a distaste in her mouth.

She watched him bind the unconscious xeno with metal wires. The xeno's left stump was cauterized and sealed, preventing him from bleeding out. A large bruise plastered his forehead, thanks to the pommel of Nokia's axe. Alfa, Private, and Dalgoi policed the bodies with the ratling looting them very thoroughly. The Lord General stood nearby, his helmet off and held in his left arm and a flask in another, staring down at the dead krogan, and taking a deep draw.

[He is a local. We may never find him now if we try. But this one may know where our destination is.] The Magos canted quietly in Binary, a blurb of static and hiss, his fingers tying the last knot before looking at Ranger.

[The abhuman is already taking us there, is he not?] She inquired, hoping that she wasn't insulting him with her question. [He hasn't been damaged in this… _turkey shoot._ ] She grumbled the last words, having found the whole ordeal lacking, too easy.

[To our salvage. After there, we go somewhere else,] Pausing to contemplate something, he continued, [Alfa, carry the _specimen_ and ensure that no further harm is done to him. He will serve a purpose.]

Alfa said nothing, simply walking to the bound salarian hoisted the xeno over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Francis approached his silent friend, still staring at the krogan cadaver for a good minute. _"How are you feeling?"_

"This feels like I'm back in biology class," Alston nudged the limp body with his boot. " _Kinda reminds me of a turtle we dissected… without the orange tang-like blood coming out. Makes one lose his appetite."_ He screwed the cap for his flask back on and faced Francis. _"I remember feeling queasy from the smell of the preservatives, the scalpel cutting into old greyed flesh. Almost hurled if I remember, I think. However, I don't feel disgusted from this, nor do I feel funny, I just feel… okay."_

Mulling this over Francis proceeded to tell his first count of gore he inflicted. _"I stepped on a Tau's, or rather an asari's, head. It sounded like I had stepped on an egg, shell, yolk and all. Witnessing such gore so close would have me vacate the premises right away. But I was not disturbed by it. I may have even been happy with the xeno's desecration. 'It is a filthy xeno, no one would care that it is dead' I would've thought. I have changed. We both have changed. Whether it was the marble's doing or because of what we now are, I do not know."_ He merely placed a hand on Alstons shoulder in reassurance.

Alston gave an awkward look back. Confused and wondering whether he should be incensed with the possibility of changes or disturbed, before remembering something that may be related. Seeing that perhaps this would be a good moment, he decided to ask. _"That was… an interesting way of comforting someone. Though I want to ask you something."_

" _Go ahead."_

 _"Do you ever have another version of you, inside your head? Like one that is trying to convi—ask you to do things and berate you?"_ He asked, unable to thoroughly word it without sounding insane.

 _"No."_ Francis cut him off.

" _No?"_

 _"I have not encountered such a being. I am incapable of sleeping since I got here, I tested that; the most I could do is meditate. Perhaps this could be from a dream. You tend to receive vivid dreams when you are_ drunk, _if I recall correctly. Incredibly detailed and sometimes horrifying ones"_

 _"I wasn't drunk, I was poisoned."_ Alston gave a puzzled look.

" _Drunk off the poison. Either way, whenever you are unconscious, your subconscious goes wild."_

Alston could only think that his friend might be right: The Lord General was simply a hallucination—A spike of pain erupted from his brain. Alston tottered in place, clenching and pressing his hand onto his forehead hard. Francis moved to support him should he fall.

 _"Are you well?"_

 _"I—I think so,"_ He replied, the pain dispersing as soon as it arrived. " _I think I might not have healed completely yet, perhaps we should get moving?"_

Francis didn't move away for a few seconds, then, after consulting his omnispex to see if Alston wouldn't collapse soon, he stepped away. _"... If you're sure."_

* * *

 _Breath in, breath out._

 _Breath in, breath out._

Filan leaned back on the couch, and it sucked him into its synthetic embrace, letting him slowly unwind from his recent workout. He looked upwards at the ceiling, contemplating recent events, and the setback he had most unfortunately suffered.

It felt like it was mere moments ago, and it was, that he was running for his life but thankfully he knew the place like the back of his hand. With heart-pounding, as his adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he managed to retreat back to a 'safe house' of sorts he'd set up for emergencies; Emergencies that involved himself of course. Thankfully only one person knew where it was, and this person was sitting in this room, so if his brother was still alive and snitches…

It was rather depressing that he'd have to start from scratch again. Not that it wasn't easy to recruit new members, this was Omega after all. The difficult aspect was getting ones that were _good_. The krogan was the most difficult acquisition of them all, taking quite a bit of his already meager wealth to recruit, and the guy had the indecency to just die in his first fight.

Some so-called veteran he was.

It was a rather vicious cycle to live on this station. To make credits, he needed to pay people to do work, preferably the dumb and stupid, to get it for him, thus requiring him to get even more in the first place. Now since he had no people, it meant that he now needed to do things the hard way as any true Omega entrepreneur would.

By himself. With a gun. Or some sharp implement.

He mentally tallied what little credits remained, grimacing at the number. ' _What fun this'll be...'_

That issue could be addressed tomorrow. Right now he needed to get his mind off the blunder in that alley, and he knew just the person to call to make it happen. He booted up his Omni-tool, went to a certain contact and made the call.

"Rilize? This is Filan. I need you to send one of your usual _housecalls_ … Yes, I'll text you the location."

Filan merely leaned back further into the couch, closing his eyes for a moment's rest. A few minutes had passed before he heard a knock on the door. He reached for his holdout gun, hidden within the couch, an obsolete but functional piece and grasped it hard. His heart was pacing once again, beating harder every beat, as he prepared to throw himself into cover.

"Rilize sent me, I'm here for Filan" A feminine voice sounded out faintly from behind it.

"Come in, come in!" He relaxed, releasing his hardened grip and pushing it back into its foamy storage, and unlocking the door with a swipe of his 'tool.

An asari stepped inside, wearing a black dress set in a Y shape at her front, exposing munsell-blue skin at her flanks and back. Filan's eye quirked up as he smiled. This was unusual for Rilize; that turian never had someone this high class and if he had, never at the rates he usually paid, but he could at least appreciate it.

He always wanted to be a man of taste.

"You must be Filan, yes?" The asari smiled sweetly.

He quickly stood and offered her a handshake, leering all the while. "I am."

She accepted. "Pleased to meet you. Now, what did you have in mind for the evening."

Filan took a breath to steady his nerves, still a bit shaken from the shootout. "Just… distract me. I had a bad day and I want to forget all about it."

"Then sit back," She shoved the salarian to the couch, and reached behind her neck to untie her dress. Turned out the knot was the only thing keeping it on as slid off like she just dropped a towel, revealing… nothing else. "And allow me to whisk your troubles away."

As she sat on his lap straddling him, her perfume hit his nose, sending him in a pleasant tizzy. Her hands, surprised at how calloused they were, slid under his shirt and began flowing their way up to his abdomen, carrying his shirt with them. They massaged his concave chest, caressed his throat, rubbed his cheeks before finally draping her arms around her neck.

Her face, mere inches from his, was almost mystifyingly beautiful. A kiss on his lips, tasting of thessian berries, left him yearning for more. Yet she soon pulled back, teasing him with a smile. Whatever she ended up costing, she'll be worth it.

"You have the look of one who escaped death," she soothed in his ear, her fingers grazing his cheek. "I've been looking for someone like you for a while. Someone smart, someone who knows people around here."

Filan could only nod as he stared into her purple eyes. Although his face squinted a bit at the last words. It was shrugged off for the promise of carnal pleasures. "I have something you can get to know alri—"

Then he felt a sharp pressure on his neck, like a pinprick, knocking him out his trance. "Ow! What was…" The sentence trailed off and Filan found himself without his voice. He then proceeded to buck the asari off but discovered his motion failing him. He stared wide-eyed at her, panic growing as his heart once again beat harder, only now not from desire. Her face, once entrancing, was now terrifying. Her smile gained a triumphant edge as she watched him start hyperventilating.

"I've so many questions, Filan," She continued in a voice sweet as arsenic, still caressing a now-sweaty face. "And you are the only one who knows the answers."

He couldn't scream for his nerves were unresponsive. His eyes were unable to even blink as his pupils frantically warred between being dilated and constricted as whatever concoction she used coursed through him along with his fear.

"Now tell me, have you ever seen or heard of any abnormally big humans around these parts, anything at all?"

Filan said nothing, how could he?

"Well, If you won't tell me, I'll just ask your brain _._ " The call girl closed her eyes, inhaled, and they opened again. They were solid black. " _Embrace Eternity_."

* * *

 _"This is quite the collection,"_ Francis said, his voice contained a hint of praise and surprise as he looked onwards.

 _"I'm gonna have to agree with you,"_ Alston chipped in as he surveyed his surroundings. _"I might have underestimated the ratlings and their talents a bit."_

The warehouse they all stood in was moderately sized, yet also occupied by Imperial forces. The fact was obvious by the assortment of bedrolls and armed guardsmen, not to mention a pair of ratlings manning an improvised stove, either watching the entrance they just entered or organizing whatever they can into neat piles for the Engineers.

An assortment of Blue Suns gear and weapons laid in rows, the latter categorized by type. One Shuriken machine pistol was disassembled before an Enginseer that crouched over it. A mechadendrite, stretching from the man's back and shaped like a needled claw, hovered over the guts of the gun, small manipulators fiddled and examined every detail as miniature cameras recorded every second.

Another Enginesser stood nearby, his censer-mechadendrite swaying, sending fumes of scented smoke over it. He mumbled something incomprehensible while dabbing the gun's frame with a small swab dipped in oil as one would treat a child.

On the adjacent wall sat another heap of armor, the final Enginseer hunched over a crate with a blue chest plate in front of him, the thing stood no chance as he was inspecting it with no mercy. The ceramic breastplate was ripped from the undersuit harshly with his bare arms, resulting in clasps or wires snapping and the plates cracked in spider web fractures from the grip force applied; before he threw it behind him with careless abandon. A small mound of plates piled messily, growing with every clack, behind the man as he continued his work.

The armor was currently in two piles: 'Whole' and 'Rest In Pieces'. Francis began to worry that the Enginseer would have no whole sets of armor left if he kept up this vigorous inspection. He needed those intact and usable.

 _"Are your Enginseers allowed to be this… savage in their inspection?"_ Francis voiced to Altson.

 _"... Maybe, I don't know to be honest,"_ Alston looked at the Magos, also curious, before gesturing over to Private, who was behind Alfa carrying the muffled salarian. _"Private, get that Enginseer over here. I have questions."_

Private saluted and marched quickly to the busy tech priest. They began talking for a few seconds, whatever was said being unable to be heard due to distance, then the Enginseer angrily tore the remaining section of the breastplate, to which it shattered in his clutches like fine china and clattered to the floor. He stood, brushed past Private—almost knocking him over— and stomped his way to the two leaders. His boot clanged hard with every step as his optics began to sear a light blue, focusing solely on the Magos and Lord General, as if they committed a great wrong.

 _"I think he's mad… or very irritated,"_ Alston had a passive face, looking indifferent to the angry cyborg heading towards them. _"That sounds about right for tech priests."_

 _"You think?"_ the Magos replied sarcastically.

 _"No, because he's gonna tell us how he feels right about… now"_ As the Enginseer stomped in front of both of them, his height was not as severe as Alston's and Francis, only reaching their chins, but he was tall. If they didn't know that their summons wouldn't hurt them, well not hurt Alston since he was _his_ , the two would've been moderately intimidated.

The man could easily pass as the Magos with the more numerous large mechandrites bearing an assortment of tools, and similar bulky frame if it wasn't for his attitude and robe color.

 _"Greetings, my Lord General, Magos, how may I be of service?"_ The Enginseer started reverently, a complete 180 from his previous demeanor, as he bowed to the both of them after making the gesture of the cog. His voice was deep, with a sharp yet respectful tone, as it hissed out from a speaker installed on his throat.

The two said nothing, bewildered by the mood swing.

Alston recovered first, coughing to gain a second to compose himself, and then giving a brief smile, said: "We would like to know what you are doing with your _inspections_ of the wargear? It would seem to be a bit counterproductive to rip them to shreds after checking them."

 _"Stress testing, my Lords. My findings were frustrating and interesting. These could only be barely compared to the lowest quality of flak armor possible, if not for their poor pseudo-energy shields to protect them. It'll suffice against lower-grade stubber munitions but is insufficient for anything else. Not to mention the varying degrees of craftsmanship, none of which are acceptable by our standards. There are few positive aspects amid the sea of faults, the undersuits have som—"_

 _"Do not examine anymore, I have need of them to be in one piece. Ensure they are usable and fully functional, repair any that are not to the best of your abilities, and do what you wish with those irreparable."_ Francis ordered, cutting the enginseer off from his explanation with a tone that gave no room for argument.

The Enginseer merely looked at the Magos, before turning his head over to the Lord General, who nodded, and then gave a small nod back to the Magos in return. _"If it is by your wishes, It shall be done. Is there anything else you require of me?"_

 _"Restrain this xeno somewhere. We will speak to him shortly."_ The Magos gestured to the slump salarian on Alfa's shoulders. The salarian had begun to show some signs of waking, so it would be best to store him before he truly awoke.

Seeing the bound salarian, the Enginseer gestured to a group of guardsmen carrying crates. "Guardsmen, secure this xeno for interrogation and examination. There is a side room that should suffice. Follow me." He ordered as the guardsmen approached quickly before Alfa passed the salarian over and they, along with the Enginseer, dragged the limp man away.

 _"I've been meaning to ask but you mind telling me why we kept him? I did not know that Shepard allowed us to keep pets?"_ Alston joked as he looked around once more before he realized something as his eye opened wide " _... we are not keeping him are we?"_

 _"No."_ Francis monotoned.

 _"... Vivisection?"_ He queried with a disturbed look.

 _"No."_

 _"Are you… planning to turn him into a servitor?"_ asked Alston, hisvoice growing tense. He was hoping this was not the case. Not that he wasn't positive that Francis couldn't do it. It was because he was less optimistic about him, or Francis, being able to smuggle a xeno cyborg slave onboard or let alone explain it.

 _"Salarians are the smartest species in this universe; to induct a salarian would negate their greatest attribute."_

 _"Smart… This one tried to mug two random humans, a midget—_

 _"Ahem!"_ Dalgoi coughed irritability.

 _"— A ratling, three unknown mechs and all of them holding weapons of they never seen before… And they came at us with a band of hobos, one giant lizard, and two blue stripper—"_

 _"Asari."_ Francis corrected, cutting him off in mid-rant.

 _"Shut up,"_ Alston retorted, getting visibly incensed with at the interruptions, and he took a quick deep breath before continuing. _"and you say that they're smart?"_

 _"I get the feeling if I had said 'intelligent' you would have argued the same point."_

 _"Our friendship is deep, now answer the fracking question."_ He snarled back.

 _"I say to you, on the whole, they are the smart ones. This one is not among them."_

 _"Then why do we have him if he is a fool?"_ Alston griped. He wanted an answer and his friend, as trusted as he was, liked to be an evasive shit. Especially when it's to get on Alston's nerves.

 _"He is a local. He will tell us where we want to go. Think of it as… a 'Local Positioning System'."_

 _"... We're already at our destination, you idiot."_ The urge to slap the man was rising.

 _"True, but that was given by Dalgoi here. As I said, we will play the blame game using the armor of the Blue Suns to raid the Blue Suns themselves. This course of action could be considered… out of the blue."_

'Slap him, Slap him now!' Alston twitched but the reasoning made sense the more he thought about it. He stayed his hand. It had potential.

Francis wanted to pull a Trojan horse on these Blue Suns.

Though Alston needed, no wanted, more details as to assess the full scale of said plan. _"Tell me more now!"_ He demanded before looking over at his aide. _"Private and friends, you're dismissed till I need you."_ He looked at the Francis, hinting at him to do the same. He had a hunch that this idea of his would come to bite him in the rear soon enough.

Francis waved his hand, alongside a muted crackle of his vox, sent Ranger and Alfa to stand beside some crates nearby. They both stood like statues, unflinching and unmoving, till called.

 _"We will establish ourselves an outpost here, but incognito. The best locations have been taken by either Aria or the three main merc groups: Eclipse, which looks like Tau wannabees, the Blood pack or the Blue suns. Only the Blue suns are the best options, due to the presence of humans in their ranks and the rather thorough culling they've been undergoing from your ratlings, and eventually soon by Shepard. Leaving them, currently, horribly undermanned."_ Francis stood up straighter, confident in his sales pitch. _"And that's where you and your guardsmen come in, dressed in Blue Suns gear."_

 _"That's a horrible plan,"_ Alston said as soon as Francis had finished.

 _"Why say that?"_ Francis wondered. He was sure that it was a decent plan. His meta-knowledge suggested that the Blue Suns were nearly decimated on Omega. They surely wouldn't expect an attack, with their severely depleted numbers, from the inside or even be able to repel it. It was, by all regards, the perfect plan from a perfect man. Yet Alston had to nitpick it.

 _"Because you're counting on having a lot of guardsmen to pull this off. I have ten, and I doubt they'll be enough for your grand master plan."_ He pinched his eyes, hoping to get rid of his sudden headache, and took a moment to think. _"Not to mention that they've had no training or clue on how to use these 'Mass' weapons, let alone the armor. I have a feeling that this stuff is more complicated than 'point and shoot' and 'wear'."_

 _"I'm glad you brought that up,"_ Francis said before walking over to the row of consecrated guns and picked one up, an Avenger assault rifle. _"Come, gather your guardsmen, I believe now is the time for a quick lesson in firearm safety."_

" _Are you even qualified or even know how to use this?"_ Alston reached a hand to his eye, activating the vox as he sent out the order. He had some skepticism. No, he had a lot of skepticism about this entire thing. Whether this idiotic venture would pay off, and in Francis teaching skills, in equal measure. However, he was and will always be one to support his friends, even if something or someone screamed at him to do otherwise.

 _"Qualified? I am a Magos. That, and I believe the game mechanics are not that dissimilar from reality. Y_ _ou should join, too, if nothing else than to be familiar with how they work."_ The confidence in his voice put off Alston. ' _Also doesn't hurt that I downloaded all the weapons manuals in my head.'_ Francis mused.

Soon enough the ten Guardsmen, eleven counting Private, all lined before Francis and stood at parade rest.

A thought occurred to Alston, giving him concern. _"Will we even get points for this?"_ he asked, hoping that the answer was yes. He needed points, badly.

 _"Ask your skull."_

 _"Wait… where is my skull? I haven't seen the flying cadaver since I left the ship."_

 _"Behold. Fives!"_ With the flourish of a showman, Francis pulled Alston's servo-skull from within his robes. He figured he would stash them both on his person since having floating skulls around will raise so many eyebrows from the ignorant and screams of the horrified.

 _"Um, that's Fourzo."_ Alston pointed out, a finger aimed at the skull. Some of the guardsmen managed to hold down their snickers.

Francis turned the skull around—an audible buzzing of annoyance emanating from it—and upon noticing the large bronze IV on its forehead, he muttered 'Whoops', before restarting his act, swapping out his skull for Alston's.

 _We're gonna die._ Alston thought. He then asked his skull his burning question and was delighted that the two would indeed receive points once this task was completed. It would be small, considering that it wasn't a conquest, but every little bit helps.

Alston sighed in resignation and took a seat on the grimey, metal floor. ' _This better be worth it, though I should talk to enginseers after this, I need some contingencies made.'_

* * *

 **AN:** Ten thousand years, and I can't get out of the hospital, or at least feel my hands. The other venture with the Co-An story went horribly wrong again… but at least we still have Warlord don't we?

 **Co-an:** Yes. Also washing your grandma makes you numb, doesn't it? :P

 **AN:** I was talking about me pissing off that group and getting hunted down. Your thing hurts emotionally and is scarring, not physically.

 **Co-an:** Oh yeah, Deeed got jumped in an alley… Just like in this chapter… long after this chap was done. Basically played out the same, builds grudge in a bar, boy comes back with buddies and asses gets kicked.

 **AN:** *Cough* Yes…. It was…. A painful experience, after some time in recovery and some stitches. We bring to you this chapter. You can also blame the Co-An for being lazy.

Review Time:

 **Grudgematch:**

 **AN:** Yes, they will get along…. Maybe…. Perhaps…. Someday.

 **Artyom-Dreizehn**

 **AN:** Yes, that there is an Ogryn.

 **Husebad:**

 **AN:** Chaos is a negligible factor currently, aso the Imperium (40k version) will not be showing up, besides our summons and other related things.

Wman243

 **AN:** Thanks

 **Last Admiral**

 **AN:** I cannot say if the Ratling would be on the Normandy.

 **Terror Dark Calws Army**

AN: That's an interesting idea. Maybe in another story, or at least a "What if?" chapter.

 **Janne Rolfe Jalandoni**

 **AN:** We've already planned out the characters and a rough story arc, and we will have defenses against Ships in the future. Ships would not be nerfed…. Roughly.

Dekuton

 **AN:** That is a fault at my end. I neglected to do Line breaks at those sections. It is a ripper gun, and the big guy is an Ogryn. I felt that there were not enough Ogryns in story's now.

Mercenary9814

 **AN:** True. We could've done that Chapter a bit better to be honest.

 **Jaznavav**

 **AN:** We never dropped the story. Just real life issues getting in the way; work, injuries, moving and being hunted down by a gang of shoplifters for insulting their brother. You know the usual….

Also I agree with your opinion on the Review system. It could really use a discussion section.

 **Lost it Never Had it:**

 **AN:** Yarp

 **the iron lion**

 **AN:** Indeeed.

 **Human Dragon**

 **AN:** Oh Look! It's a new chapter.

 **Chapter Master** Sincliar

 **AN:** Get hyped some more! It feeds the Emperor with your belief.


	14. Go!

' _Thinking'_

" _Low gothic"_

[Machine talk]

"Talking"

* * *

 **Omega**

" _Is this the place?"_ said Francis to the Enginseer that led them there.

His eyes scanned the building in front of them. It was larger than the improvised hideout they left and stretched a fair distance longer. The graffitied walls reached high up and lacked any windows on all sides of the building. The entrance, from what he can spot, was a large docking bay next to a landing pad that was large enough to hold air trucks and a normal metal door on the right wall a fair distance away. A camera, bulky and poorly hidden, was installed above it.

The Enginseer was too engrossed in his work to reply, staring at an illuminated 'sanctified' omni-tool on his wrist, as was on many others nearby. The device, no longer utilitarian or plastic-looking, was covered with strips of waxed vellum and etched symbols of religious significance. Gazing sideways at Francis, the irises in his four eyes mechanically focused, his gravelly voice echoed out from his breather, " _This is the location the xeno has given us, Magos Nokia. This 'sanctified' device, along with the data collected and the directions given have allowed me to divine that this is the location. I cannot truly verify beyond what was given."_

They were located at a square near the cross-section of a street about fifty yards away. The area was quiet, with no signs of life anywhere. It would be easy to mistake this area to be abandoned, given the disrepair, especially with filth and rundown look.

Private stood in front of ten guardsmen who in turn stood behind the large forms of the Magos and Lord General, staying close enough to ensure a prompt response, yet far enough to ensure privacy. All were sporting Blue Suns gear.

" _Are you sure this is a good idea? I don't like this. Something is telling me that this will go horribly wrong,"_ Alston interrupted both of them. Second thoughts were beginning to emerge, whether it was a good idea to attack a place so hastily and with such 'vague' information from an untrusted source. A source that had tried to kill them, no less. _"I don't like horribly wrong."_

" _We will not know if this idea is good unless we test it, correct?"_

Alston gave a blank faced look, before turning his head over to the warehouse. " _Alright, but I do still get to keep your share if shit hits the fan, correct?"_ He squinted.

" _Certainly. I will have Fourzo do a sweep for the life signs of species the Blue Suns normally comprise of and security devices before we stack up at the door."_ As Francis said this the servo skull was already exiting his robes and flying to the warehouse. " _You should have your skull do the same."_

" _Alright,"_ Alston looked at the Magos robe. " _Fives? Think you can do some searching?"_

A beep of confirmation sounded out from within the robes before a different skull flew out in the direction of the other, joining in the search as they coordinated

* * *

" _What you think is gonna happen now, Sargent?"_ one of the guardsmen whispered to the others in his squad in Low Gothic as he watched the skull zoom off into the distance. " _Think we gonna be fighting soon?"_

" _Most likely. Place is teeming with xenos. I'm amazed we haven't gotten in a shoot-out yet, and that cog head is issuing these new plastic toys and kit."_ Another voice responded. The sargent was fiddling with his rental piece, running his hands on its collapsible frame. He didn't like it, It was too light in his opinion, a toy gun that goes ping and shrinks. It was things like these that could get a man killed, whether due to unfamiliarity or negligence. Better to be familiar with your own gear than those you're not.

" _Like this armor is any better."_ A different guardsmen slapped her own chest plate. " _I worked in a ceramite manufactorum; this is weaker than the refuse we throw out. I bet a throne this wouldn't even stop a las bolt."_

" _It might be good enough, given that these things shoot little grains of metal."_ Guardsmen Two scoffed back, remembering the so-called 'live fire' demonstration. " _I swear we could do more damage with our las-guns on the lowest setting."_

" _Hey, don't forgot them energy fields,"_ Another gladly chimed in from the rear. " _This is the first time I've seen the coggies actually give them out like sweets… And actual working helmets that filter the air! Emperor knows how this place reeks."_

" _Like those would do much, you saw how..."_

The complaints would jump from trooper to trooper, whether it was on the quality of gear or even to the purpose of dressing up in it. They all turned to the only silent man, the only one who hasn't said a word this whole time.

Trooper Private, the Lord General's personal aide, and possibly the only one who had a clue as to their purpose here.

Private, who was watching the Lord General, felt the questioning gaze of over ten pairs of eyes. He looked back, unknowing of what was expected of him, and asked them. " _... What is it?"_

" _What's gonna happen now? We gonna storm that building?"_ The one closest to Private asked, pointing to the distant warehouse. The skulls were barely seen as they flittered quickly from place to place, only the pulse of red light to signify their current location before fading elsewhere.

" _Yeah, in a bit."_

" _And why are given such inferior equipment? We would stand much better with what we have already,"_ a different one asked.

" _Well… The Magos said it was an attempt to blend in."_ Private looked at the ground to escape the squad's piercing eyes from behind their helmets. He was technically supposed to be aware of what was happening, given that he was to literally be by the General's side, but he was sent away, sadly leaving him with only nuggets and imagination. " _I don't know why we bother since he stands out the most. But after walking through that market, with all the looks we were getting, I can see why. I mean, a xeno tried to take the General's pistol during our time at the club. Oh, and that same one tried again with more people, but we got em all… except for one."_

" _I pray letting it go wasn't a mistake,"_ Ranger chimed in, surprising them with the sudden interruption. " _The Magos is never one to shy away from an easy victory."_

" _And it was an easy victory. The enemy was so badly beaten the survivors could only run for their lives. Or have you forgotten our wargame on Titun with the Aquarians?"_ Alfa countered Ranger, disapproval of her doubt tinting his monotone.

The guardsmen cringed in embarrassment at that, Private the hardest. It was a mock battle taking place in an abandoned district between the Magos and Lord General, a simple practice run involving a platoon for each. The Lord General had a two-stage plan using airdropped soldiers, ratlings and Rough Riders to lockdown the Mechanicus forces, while the Bullgryns and artillery guns got in range and unleashed a hail of shells.

The plan bombed; it would have worked had the Magos' forces spread out as hoped, but they had instead bunched up in a corner of the battlefield, resulting in kill zones with wide firing lanes and scant cover. Too late to change plans, and unable to call back the transport ships, he was forced to proceed with the original plan.

It was a mistake.

In what was truly a Mad Minute, most of the Imperial forces arrayed were 'killed' and the survivors were quickly hunted down and captured. The Skitarii suffered a single casualty, not due to combat, but rather a sinkhole. A very deep pothole.

The Lord General stormed out the command tent after that. His footsteps followed by a cackling Magos.

" _No need to remind us of that,"_ the sergeant grumbled. He rubbed a spot on his head, recalling how thorough they were in capturing them.

" _I merely provided a recent example,"_ Alfa regarded factually. He cocked his head to the building, as lenses zoomed in, and noticed something small darting towards them. " _Be ready to move, the skulls return."_

* * *

" _The bio-scans were inconclusive?"_ The Magos stared at Fourzo. He was relieved at the lack of any security measures both inside and out from the information given, yet it also disturbed him. It was rather unusual for something to be this… vulnerable. Not even an electronic alarm was found.

 _"Correct, Magos,"_ affirmed both Fourzo and Fives. _"We have also confirmed numerous life signs, but we are unsure whether they are positive or false. The conclusion is that we are unsure but numbers may range at roughly twenty life forms, and one unusual human lifeform that may be familiar to our records."_

Francis' optics narrowed. That couldn't be right. He recalled that the Blue Suns had pulled as much as they could out to deal with Archangel, yet they left quite a significant amount of personnel behind… Why?

 _"Well this just got a whole lot more difficult,"_ Alston commented. _"Didn't you say they were all grouped up to deal with that Archangel guy? Why are there so many here?"_

 _"I do not know, perhaps—"_

" _Perhaps nothing. We go or not."_ Pulling out his power sword but not activating it, Alston waited for Francis to decide. Either way, he would be satisfied.

" _We go."_ Francis decided. " _This is what we prepared for, so let us see it through."_

" _Are we going to the front or rear entrance?"_

" _The rear."_

Both of them stalked off to the side of the warehouse. The squad of Guardsmen, seeing their boss move, went silent and fell in step behind him.

 _"Orders?"_ Alfa asked.

Francis unholstered his Serpentina. " _Kill all hostiles."_

 _"Your will be done,"_ both Skitarii responded.

The guardsmen stacked up at the shutter waiting for the Lord General's word, the man waiting for his friend to hurry forward. _"So, how do you want to do this? I had a special something prepared just for this occasion."_ Alston wheeled on his enginseer. " _Did you bring it?"_

The cyborg nodded and reached within his robes pulling out a large device comprised of numerous large black metal cylinders, thick cables and a small pad. If one looked at a certain angle, it barely resembled a happy face. " _It has been made as quickly as the Ommissiah wills it… with what scant time you've given me. But he has pro—"_

" _Good, now I want you to place it at the shut—"_

" _No no, that shall not be necessary. I will do it."_ A plasma torch flickered to life, and the lock was seared off; the cheap metal alloy proving to be no match for mechadendrite. The Magos grabbed hold and lifted the shutter up slowly, allowing him to sneak a look with his sensor attachment to reveal...

A plain concrete room. A large receiving area, to be more precise, with crates lining the walls and scattered haphazardly along the floor. A shutter door was at the far end, a heavier, more reinforced version.

Francis lifted the shutter all the way up, allowing the boys and girls in blue to fan in, checking corners and potential traps. The Skitarii advanced further in.

 _"All clear, my Lord,"_ the sergeant reported.

 _"Well, that was uneventful,"_ Alston droned, eyeing some of the crates with curiosity about the contents. Hopefully, it would be something nice… and valuable.

 _"This is only the first room,"_ Francis said before Alfa addressed him with a ping.

 _"There are voices beyond this door."_ Alfa pointed a finger at it. The sound of muffled cheering and shouting was audible, but one could make out the occasional hiss if listening closely enough.

 _"And they're 'tyranids',"_ Ranger growled. Francis sneaked to the door, raising his microphones' sensitivity like his retinue had done to eavesdrop on the other side. What he heard worried him, so he pulled out.

Alston furrowed his brow. " _We had 'nids here? I wasn't told about any 'nids. You lied to me, didn't you?"_

A few guardsmen looked around anxiously as if expecting the bugs to appear suddenly.

 _"Oh Throne, we're fighting nid's?"_ a female guard fretted and inched back at the announcement. Possibly from a past trauma involving said creatures, yet before she took another step. She was halted with a firm hand from the Sargent.

The man held a pistol, of Blue Suns marking, with his other hand. _"If you retreat, you will regret it."_ He eyed her with disgust, whether it was because of the weapon in his hand or the attempt of someone in his squad trying to flee in front of the Lord General himself.

 _"I'm… not too sure that what we fought were even tyranids."_ Private quickly interrupted the tense moment, having placed himself behind her to save her life stop her cowardice in its tracks… and to ensure that the Lord General did not enlist a commissar in the near future; they were not the definition of the words 'reasonable' and 'tolerant'. " _There were some tall kroot thingies, two frogmen, a gorgeous t'au,"_ The sergeant did a double-take. " _and a hive guard like creature on two lehhhhh... okay, there_ _ **may**_ _be—"_

" _They are not tyranids, nor any species that you described._ _This sector of space is completely foreign to us._ " Francis cut in.

Several seconds of silence passed while they processed what the Magos said.

" _So, not nids?"_ Alston looked at the shutter door the Magos was standing by; noises were still audible through the thick metal.

" _None. This sector's analog has been rendered and wiped extinct for centuries."_ The Magos should inquire about it at some point, discreetly, if nothing more than to scratch the curiosity-itch. He wasn't sure if Shepard had spared the Rachni. It would be interesting if she did.

The Guardsmen all gave a sigh of relief. They did not have to worry about the downsides of actual tyranids. The main problem of which was being eaten alive, melted with bio-acids or flayed to shreds with sheer psychic powers. Sometimes all three at once.

This relief was quickly doused with the reality that their foes, quite literally, were next door to them, cheering and yelling like a pack of orks.

Great, They're now dealing with pseudo orks.

" _What is the plan now, General?"_ The sargent inquired with a grimace. His eyes not leaving the shutter doors as scenarios of what type of an ork gathering ran through his head. They all weren't pretty.

" _Try and not shoot our men... or women. We've barely got enough to take this place and don't forget that they're right next to the fucking door."_ Alston scolded. The sergeant eyed the floor in shame of his eagerness. Soon, turning over to Francis, Alston motioned over to the door. " _Are you gonna cut into that one as well? Or can I use Mr. Happy now?"_

"Mister Happy?"

Alston pointed at the explosive charge being cradled in the enginseer's arms. "Mr. Happy."

Francis looked at the door, listening to the voices beyond, turned back to his friend, and everyone could hear the wide smile as he said, "You most certainly can use him, but I am heading in first."

"No arguments here."

"I advise that you vacate to a safe distance. Recommendation: The very rear of this room." The enginseer chipped in, moving to place the device on the shutter. The locks stuck to it and held firm with a clack.

After ensuring that the area was safe, his fingers pressed a few runes on the pad, and the lights began to illuminate a pulsing green.

* * *

Gadark, second in command of the Blood Pack stationed in Omega, was frustrated. His leg jittered and his eyes furrowed as he sat on a box, waiting for a report on how the cleanup on Archangel went, if it even was successful or not. He hoped that was simply it, then at least he could relax. But no, he had to deal with the customers that bought merchandise from them; this particular batarian was insistent on getting his slaves as soon as possible, particularly last week.

Flanking him were his two brood-brothers. Mandark stood by his right, bearing brains rather than brawn and Grimdark on his left had brawn rather than brains. The latter was asleep on his feet, lips sputtering at each exhale. The former was vigilant, watching out for excessive rowdiness from the crowd of vorcha who cheered and jeered at the improvised varren fight-pit some distance away, made up of barricades. Other vorcha were sprinkled about, some talking to each other in their hissing or grunting tongue. While a few were on guard duty, patrolling the walkways above.

It was all relatively peaceful… until the batarian decided to continue complaining.

"Gadark, it would be prudent that you supply as many as you can on that list. We don't care about the quality of them, so long as they can move and breath. We'll even pay more than the usual rate. We're behind because of you and that Pillar-damned Archangel," the batarian insisted again, the fifth time today. The look of fear or desperation was obvious. _Must be an underling afraid to see his head roll_ , Garm wondered. He didn't care about that, that was the buyer's problem. He just took care of supplying.

"I've got most of them. Don't know why you need this many humans, though. They're weak and squishy. Turians would be better," Gadark said, looking to the side at the numerous large shipping containers lining the area. He was curious at the sudden upsurge in demand for humans. This guy usually bought turians. Well, credits were credits but he couldn't help but ask, hoping perhaps to sell directly to buyers and skip the middleman.

There was always a profit if you cut out the middleman, especially with a knife and take a bite or two, but batarians tend to be stringy. He would still relish it, though It was a matter of principle.

"It's none of your business. My client wants them and I _will_ provide them," He narrowed all four eyes, "Unless you are not willing to sell?"

"No, I'll get them. Give me some time to round up more. I got some enthusiastic recruiters," Gadark chuckled as he watched the vorcha cheer loudly once more.

"Very well, Gadark. I need them by the end of the week. Credits will be transferred upon delivery and _only_ on delivery."

"Give me three da—"

"Wish we could just ship him an empty container. That'll teach him not to rush us," Mandark huffed, nudging Grimdark awake and startling him.

"What did he sa—" Gadark sighed as he shut off his omni-tool, ending the call. He honestly wished he could, the temptation to do so was strong. There was no shortage of empty containers, especially after Archangel's chaotic last visit, but he knew he couldn't get away with it. Garm, if he ever made it back—and he hoped he didn't—would have his head on a stick. This client was an easy source of credits, paying extremely well for these orders. Also didn't hurt that they could just literally grab any random idiot off the street.

A series of loud raps at the rear door leading into the warehouse caught Gadark's, his brood-brothers' and the attention of a few nearby vorcha. The vorcha looked at Gadark for orders. He flicked his chin at the door. Unstrapping their rifles from their backs, a pair of vorcha moved to the door. More raps continued to sound. The pair stopped before the closed entrance, one right in front of it.

Agitated, the vorcha hissed as he banged the shutter loudly in reply. "Egh, what you want?"

"Little xeno, little xeno, let me in," a deep voice echoed out. "Or I'll melt your house down."

The two shared a befuddled look, not understanding the phrase. "What?"

It was the last word they both ever said. In less than a second a bright light flashed out. The shutters disintegrated in a whoosh as a torrent of searing heat and air punched through, shimmering like a fine haze and hot as the sun. It engulfed the pair, turning them into a fine shadow. While the surrounding walls turned to liquid rock and metal crates melted into slag. A smell of burnt plastic and steel lingered.

A vorcha, not as close to the blast but neither far enough, rubbed at his eyes as he tried to regain his sight and hissed in pain. His skin was crisped in some areas, contrasting with his yellow-green complexion. When his sight returned. He gawked at a giant mech in front of him, clad in religious purple robes and flaying tentacles. Before he could react, its arm snapped out and gripped his neck. With a crack and a squish, the vorcha's neck popped like an orange.

Alfa and Ranger were the next to enter into the fray, their robes flying behind them, and thanks to the information provided in real-time by the Magos via battle-net, they were instantaneously aware of enemy positions and, most importantly for the both of them, their weak points. All three of them rushed forward, their weapons and implants crackling with discharge as they unleashed on the mob. The Vorcha scrambled in all directions; those quicker to react managed to find cover. The rest were sent to the afterlife. The place after death, not the club.

Francis' leveled his serpentina. The white phosphorous balls forcing the krogan triplets to get to cover, thinking they were getting a missile to the face. It impacted the cover behind them.

"Not so boring now, huh?" Mandark commented to Grimdark as he readied his weapon. Grimdark grunted as he did likewise; the look of tiredness on his face was gone, now replaced with a look of anticipation and excitement.

"Stop talking and fight back!" Gadark shouted and rose up along with his brothers, "Kill the big one!" Their shots rang out at Francis who was smashing in an unfortunate head with the butt of his weapon. Gadark seethed and unleashed shot after shot, cheering as one hit home.

Francis' barrier flared to life with a shimmer before shattering underneath the powerful shot. Gadark's grimaced as the second round was deflected by a different barrier; it resembled a hardened haze of air. The shot had slowed Francis down for a second until he noticed his attackers amidst the chaos. He charged in their direction with a brandished axe.

" _Cover the human tank_!" Alston barked as his guardsmen entered the fray. " _Leave the big ones to me and the Mechies! Private, with me_!"

The guardsmen charged forward, calling out their targets before introducing death to their foes, putting those already in panic under more pressure. A few of the guardsmen gave a look of disdain from firing their new weapons or when they sighted their foe. They however, beared with it as they hurriedly supported the Mechanicus' rapid advance with the skilled discipline and stoicism of the Imperial Guard.

One of the remaining vorcha, vaulted the barricade to place something solid between him and them. It was then that he remembered the existence of two starving varren, now enticed by the smell of blood and gore. He gasped in fright, turning just in time to see the open maw of one, before it clamped down on his head, giving him a faceful of saliva and a neck full of jagged teeth as it began to feast.

Another vorcha dashed towards them. His scream like air escaping a balloon. The closest to it, leading from the front, was the sergeant and they crashed in a ball of flailing limbs. The pistol flew out of the mans' hand before they rolled to a stop with the vorcha on top. The sergeant braced his right forearm to its throat to stall it from biting his face, his left reaching for the knife at his hip in a swift motion.

Stab stab stab went the knife, wanting to meet the liver. On the fifth stab, it did, causing the vorcha to do a squeaky gasp as its body crippled from the pain to protect itself, allowing the sergeant to do a roll-reversal. He ice picked the knife in the vorcha's neck and, using it as a lever, ripped it out, leaving an ear-to-ear smile.

"Pull back, Pull back! Move it whelps!" Gadark turned and ran; he knew better than to stay here. His brothers emptied their weapons towards the Blue Suns before following. Leaving the Vorcha behind to buy them time. The only thing they were good for as it seems.

The attackers' brutality and timing was something to be admired, he would've done the same if he could. It was supposed to be a time of peace between the three gangs as they went after that turian bastard. But now the deal seems off, it looks like. And those purple mechs were something else, though, the colors confused him. He wasn't aware of any gangs that wore purple, or at least any with the wealth to afford custom mechs..

He'd find out afterward once he rips them to scrap, maybe rebuild them to terrorize some idiots. Gadark waved the thought away as he entered the maze of shipping containers. Now wasn't the time to ponder, that was Mandark's thing. He was always the scatter-headed one with his knowledge.

Then he saw what he was looking for and grinned.

* * *

Francis watched the krogan rush around the corner into what looks like the start of a maze, constructed from shipping containers, and pushed his augments much harder for that extra sprint. He had left Alston behind as he and his men mopped up any survivors and if he could wipe out those three, then this place should be clear.

' _Easy peasy'_ Francis thought as he rounded the corner. A dead vorcha held in front as a shield to soak up bullets and rushed into the mouth of the maze. Ranger and Alfa closing behind him. Their stomps clanking against the concrete.

Francis racked his mind as he processed something he realized: considering that this was Blood Pack territory. It would stand to reason that they would have nasty surprises hidden around here, which meant they had the home field advantage here It would make sense that he should go back to his—Alston's—men and ready up for a potential counter-attack or at least have their support in this ad-hoc labyrinth. But seeing the big bad aliens running away in a panic was just too funny to not keep up for as long as possible.

He will still kill them though.

There was also the fact that he was sure they had killed more than twenty already, not including these three he was chasing after. So it should be moot to prepare for an attack, especially with the current Archangel debacle.

Francis turned the corner. He paused as he mentally corrected his earlier assessment.

" _Oh."_ Then chucked his meat shield towards them and backpedaled.

Alfa and Ranger were startled by his frantic retreat before being grabbed by their robes and dragged within his frantic run. The corner he recently vacated was shredded with mass fire and flames.

" _Alston, human wave incoming!"_ He warned.

"Get them!" a krogan roared, full of rage and bloodlust, to the war cries of those around him.

* * *

" _This was easy,"_ Alston stared at a vorcha with puzzlement, prodding it with his boot. " _Ugly thing, isn't it?"_ looking over at Private, who was currently fumbling with his rifle to reload it.

All around the pair. The guardsmen were picking through the various bodies, ensuring that they were thoroughly dead, while a few watched the entrances for potential hostiles. The only one out of place was the Enginseer who scavenged the bodies, regardless if the owners were deceased, as he ripped weapons and gear with the finesse and skill of an ork looter. Sometimes, he would rip out entire limbs for their omni-tools with a sick crack of bone. Whether he did it intentionally or not, Alston did not know, as the man stockpiled the goods on a pile or within the crevasses of his robes.

Gunfire echoed out from within the labyrinthine structure of crates, intensifying every second.

" _It was, Lord General,"_ his aide replied back, finally replacing the thermal clip, " _Ugliest things I've ever seen. It reminds me of the muties back home."_

" _Just call me Alston,"_ He said, growing somewhat weary of constantly being addressed with a title. It was authoritative and descriptive of his powers, yes, and it certainly stoked his ego, but it felt lacking now. Like someone eating one too many sweets. " _Sounds better then saying Lord General all the time. Too formal, and you're my aide. Use it for more formal times or events."_

" _Yes, Lord Ge—Lord Alston,"_ Private said after a moment of hesitation, deciding that it was apt to at least keep the 'Lord' as the man _was_ of noble birth and military rank. It also helped that most nobles tended to be arrogant, preferring to be differentiated from the _common_ class. So it was safer for him to at least include some term of status, not much harm in doing so.

Alston just closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He'll deal with this later in the safety of the Normandy. As he opened his eyes, ready to order them to move deeper and assist Francis in his cleanup, a frantic call screamed in his micro-bead.

" _Alston, human wave incoming!"_ his friend panicked.

" _What human wa—"_ Alstons eyes widened as he spotted the Tech-priest speeding towards him from the maze entrance, vaulting over crates and firing behind him. His Skitarii companions ran backwards, with Alfa having been set on fire at some point. Both of them unleashed an almost unceasing hail against a giant mob of Blood Pack who were armed to the teeth and filled to the brim with anger.

" _Attack incoming!"_

" _Protect the General!"_

The guardsmen and Enginseer scrambled to cover amid shouts as they were caught unawares, before quickly unleashing their own fire of metal shards and las bolts. The limited volley allowing the Mechanicus precious seconds to reach them and take cover next to Alston.

" _That's not a human wave, those are xenos!"_ Alston pointed out and ducked into cover as a shot narrowly missed his head, pinging off the crate. He raised his pistol over his cover and fired blindly until it clicked empty. Desperate hands fumbled around his armor for another mag, finding one in a pocket he swore he just emptied for the previous reload. He did not want to question where it came from, lest it somehow stops or disappears.

Good things happen to those who don't question.

" _Hyponym_ _!"_ Francis argued.

" _I don't know what that means, but now you know how I feel!"_

" _This is not the time, milords!"_ Private interrupted. An explosion from a rocket lit up nearby; the blast blew a guardsmen, sending him colliding headfirst to the ground with a crunch.

" _Shut up!"_ the two Players barked back.

* * *

 _"Fuck!"_ Alston screamed as he fired a shot at a distant target.

 _"You!"_ He ducked back down into cover. The once sturdy metal crate now doing a great impression of junkyard scrap thanks to an unrelenting storm of sand-grain bullets chewing at it. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, his heart pacing and head ringing, as he crawled to newer cover. A hissing scream grabbed his attention.

A vorcha pounced on him just as he turned, its sharp claws reaching for his throat. He slapped it on the side of its head with his pistol, stunning the alien as it fell, before quickly crawling up and smashing it repeatedly with the butt. " _You fuck!"_ he gasped as he made the final blow.

 _"You lied to me! This is not Blue Suns, I see red, not blue!"_ Alston voxed Francis over the din of gunfire, screams and the occasional explosion. He gazed at the chaos from behind his cover as the guardsmen tried to keep the chittering horde. So egged into a frenzy by the krogan that suppression fire had a negligible effect.

The battle had quickly begun to tilt in the Blood Pack's favor. With the restriction of using Mass Effect weapons and gear placed by the Magos, it meant that the guardsmen were technologically on par with the opponent, if not slightly less due to lack of familiarity. However, this meant that the average kinetic barrier did its job at soaking the first few bullets, it also worked both ways, letting most of who were shot at survive until they got to cover and fired back.

The Blood Pack, on the other hand, had an awful lot of cover and weapons; along with the numbers to ensure they could use said cover. They surrounded the small group of Imperials, like an island against the storm, circling like vultures. It was only due to the Magos advising the guardsmen when and where to throw what little grenades they had left, forcing the Blood Pack back just momentarily.

"Kill them all now!" A large Krogan bellowed as his entourage pounded the Imperials' position.

Quickly looking around the battle. Alston noticed Private dragging a wounded trooper to shelter, while others provided overwatch. The Enginseer chopped away with his axe, his servo mechandrites shattering limbs with every swing and clamped on skulls with crushing force, before ripping them off.

 _"T'was not a lie."_ Francis replied. " _I said that we should not face considerable resistance at a Blue Suns base. This is not the Blue Suns, so ergo, I have not lied."_

Alston could not respond to it, too engrossed in preventing a flamethrower-wielding vorcha from getting closer. Its fuel tanks were set ablaze by a white sphere, converting the pyro into a pyrotechnic display.

A shower of white spheres flew out from the Magos' position, pinning or killing any who decided to charge at the guardsmen.

Ranger could be seen firing her rifle, sounding like clockwork as it kept a steady barrage. Alfa was putting _considerable_ effort in hacking to pieces anyone who dared get within arms reach, and making pincushions of those who weren't.

A ping sounded in his head, alerting him to his decreasing points. The number of guardsmen had been reduced to eight. " _We need to get out of here! I'm running out of men and I rather keep whoever is left in one piece."_

He fired blindly over cover, the sound of shearing metal as the bolt round found purchase and exploded. He heard an alien scream of pain before they responded with grenades. An explosion sent a guardsmen to the Emperor as his shields popped and armor shredded.

 _"We cannot!"_ Francis said. " _They have cut off the exit. We must punch through the walls, Alston, do you have any more explosives?"_

 _"No, I've used the only one."_

 _"Why did you only bring one?"_

 _"Because one was needed to get in,"_ Alston stressed to Francis with gritted teeth, " _If I knew we were gonna have to get out. I would've asked for more. Look, should we call Shep—"_

" _No,"_ Francis interrupted sharply, " _We cannot bother them with this. She should be in the middle of something vastly more important."_

" _More important than us getting killed? What about calling the Ratlings to arrive?"_ Alston quickly suggested.

" _They would not make it in time,"_ Francis claimed in return.

A panicked Private quickly interjected into the argument on the vox. _"The squad is running low on ammo and we're down to the last few power packs,_ " This gave pause to Francis and Alston. Turned out that the 'infinite ammo' situation may only apply only to their original weapons.

An important revelation at a very inconvenient time. Alston felt the need to throttle a certain Magos if they managed to survive.

If.

 _"Great… This is bad,"_ Alston drew his sword, hand clenching the hilt like it was a lifeline. He knew the only thing stopping these vorcha from merely overrunning them was the suppressing fire from the guardsmen. Once that was gone… This was certainly going to be a shit storm. A stray shot pinged off his refractor shield, with a crackle, bringing him back into focus with the ongoing firefight. " _Very bad."_

 _"I agree,"_ The Magos said his las-mechadendrite peeking out to send lances of bright beams.

The Blood Pack charged yet again. Though it mostly failed, quite a few managed to get through. Leaving Francis, his skitarii and Alston in front to fend them off.

 _"Oh, and that's another thing, we are surroun—"_ Alston paused as he came to a realization as a headache hit him, inserting a foreign thought. " _You didn't summon anything yet, did you?"_ He shoulder-checked a vorcha wrestling with Private as it tried to shank him in the back, allowing Private to shoot it dead.

 _"… No."_ The Magos brought down his axe, extended to full length, on a charging krogan. The blow split it down the middle without resistance. He ripped it out to block a headbutt from another, surprisingly knocking it out. " _I will remedy that_."

 _"Then hurry up and bring in something! Anything!"_ Alston demanded. _"We're getting killed here!"_ another Guardsmen bit the dust right as he said that, riddled with bullet holes. The Blood Pack, empowered by another kill, advanced with a purpose.

Francis' body immediately went on autopilot, blocking and striking on its own while he went over his point count and unit list. The problem with this fight was that they were outmanned by what looked like four to one. A similar scenario as to when he first attacked the Eclipse outpost. It would be easy to spam cheap units to get his numbers up. Francis would be sacrificing quality for quantity, but they say that quantity was a quality of its own.

" _Done,_ " Francis confirmed as he crushed a head beneath him. The points counter changed from 49/900 to 361/900.

 _"... Well, where are they?"_ Alston asked as he choked a vorcha and channeled his frustrations. Its sharp claws scraped at the vambraces, scratching paint, in a desperate bid to loosen the adrenaline and anger-strengthened grip.

A krogan roared as he closed the distance and smashed a guardsmen into a crate, leaving an indent while unloading a shot into the stunned trooper. It then moved his aim to a distracted Lord General.

A thud echoed around the building and shook the roof. The gunfire ceased. People stuck in melee looked upwards.

Another thud, this time making a spider-web fracture.

Once more, and the crack widens as dust fell like snow.

The ceiling caved from the pounding, and from it, two large figures dropped to the floor, one of them crushing a krogan directly underneath into a paste, along with toppling those close by.

The purple figures rose from the dust, reaching their full height at twelve feet. They lumbered from the landing, ignoring the stain and rubble below them. Silver visors peered back at everyone, reflecting everything they saw. A comically large machine gun mounted on each's right shoulder slowly pivoted on its mount.

One of the beings had a passenger. He leaped off the side and stood in full view, fully uncaring that it landed in the middle of a miniature warzone. His arms and legs were robotic, with exposed wires that looked like veins. His right hand wore a bulky gauntlet. The skin on his bare torso and bald head were sickly pale and taut, like stretched leather. In place of eyes were circular camera lenses and from the nose down, wrapping around his head, rested a metallic purple scarf.

The surrounding foes were stunned and hesitant, unaware of how to respond to this situation and newcomers.

One of the vorcha made up his mind.

He raised his weapon at the cyborg.

Two oversized fists, crackling with energy, clapped his head before he could shoot, pulverizing it. With a thrust of the cyborg's hand. Both robots barreled forward, arms careening down on xeno skulls. Their shoulder turrets fired a torrent of metal at those further away _._

It was utter carnage as bodies burst into fine mist or chunks of bullet strewn meat. The Blood Pack fought back to minuscule effect, ignoring the Imperials for the larger, more pressing threat. Rockets and rounds impacted skeins of crackling blue energy, throbbing as if alive. Sometimes, depending if the firing angle is correct, the bullets and missiles were reflected back at the shooters, to their surprise and demise. The heat washed over the robots in a sphere and burnt those unfortunate enough to be nearby.

Another portion of the warehouse walls exploded inwards, shredding those closeby with concrete chunks. Groups of human-like figures in purple antique diving suits marched through the holes. They stomped over the rubble, recoiling slightly from firing weapons that were in place of their arms.

Their spirits lifted by the arrival of guardsmen rallied and attacked their foes in a pincer, pushing them back with renewed tenacity. A trio of krogan lead the retreat as the fled.

" _Forward, wipe them out! For the Omnissiah!"_ Francis gestured with his ax before gazing at Alston. His commands relayed instantly to his new units as they streamed unrelentlessly behind their fleeing foes. The Kastelans smashed head first into the crates, throwing bodies and containers airborne as if they were children's blocks.

" _Are you fit to continue?"_ Francis looked over a winded Alston. The man's armor was stained and scratched, much more than his own.

Alston couldn't help but give a sad smile underneath his helmet, alongside a pang of emotion in his stomach as he looked at what remained of his units. None of them were unscathed from the brief fight with only a few dead. Though, most were lightly wounded but able to fight. There was, however, a few more serious cases that required treatment. He thought quietly before making a decision. " _Guardsmen, a few of you will stay with Private and help the wounded as best you can. Vox Captain Dalgoi to come here and assist. The remainder will follow with me and the Magos to finish this,"_ Alston announced as he pushed himself onwards.

" _But—"_ Private tried to voice an objection, but was unable to.

" _I believe in you!"_ the Lord General reassured him, touched by Private's worry for his health as he quickly moved. His men keeping close alongside the Magos while they followed the trail of bodies and the sounds of weapons discharge.

" _I have no actual medical training…"_ Private stared downwards at the injured guardsmen near him, their complexions signaling that they were near to join The Emperor's side, before sighing and pulling out the medkit. Private muttered a prayer under his breath that perhaps he could continue his record of successfully treating someone.

Thankfully due to his rather important job of assisting the Lord General, he had the assistance of a somewhat uncommon but incredibly useful wargear known as a diagnosticador. An advanced hand-held cogitator that could, well, diagnose the patient and tell him what to do with instructions so simple, a toddler could do it.

Private's hands felt the rubber grip of the device and plucked the handheld out of the case. His face paled upon being greeted to a cracked dark screen laced with fractures. A bullet had punched past the glass and shattered the electronics within, silencing the machine spirit.

" _Ah frak."_ Private muttered to himself.

He was gonna have to wing it.

* * *

Tovian kept his head and body low as he laid on the filth strewn floor. The smell of sour, pungent, unwashed bodies and filth bit at his nose but he was long used to it. Having spent almost a week, he thinks, amongst them in squalid conditions that'll make a vorcha gag.

He looked around with eyes long adjusted to the dark. Various outlines of humanoid figures, mostly humans, were doing likewise in the cramped container. All of them, including him, were bound by strong chains welded into the walls.

A few leaned lifelessly against the dirty walls, far from him, uncaring of what will happen if a shot punched through. He felt pity for them but he was unable to do anything, being constricted to his area and located near the end.

It grated on him. Just like his hunger as his gut gnawed and churned. His captors neglecting to at least feed him since he was taken.

The sound of weapons fire and explosions continued to rattle their improvised cell as it drew closer. Every boom, a violent shake, every bang sounded of pinging metal and screams.

He had originally had paid no mind to the gunfire initially. The Blood Pack tended to have target practice every now and again, whether on fake or live targets, though the sheer amount seemed excessive now. He doubted more practice would help them improve. However, it quickly grew louder and more frantic, something unusual and out of place. He would've still ignored it.

Then the screaming and explosions started. Some were blood curdling, others panicking and some heard faintly in a language that Tovian couldn't exactly figure out, Either it was obscure or complete gibberish he didn't , he and a few others looked at each other in the face, coming to a realization.

The base was being raided.

Something was up. His gut told him that something was wrong and it saved him numerous times in the past, especially during his recent stint with the Hierarchy Navy. But his heart said otherwise.

A burning hope was welling in him. The hope of being rescued and liberated. Hope that he can finally get some vengeance or something to eat. He wasn't picky in the current situation.

Yet as the sounds of battle got nearer, he could tell something was unusual about it. He'd been around weapons enough to tell the subtle differences between gunshots. Some of them had a more… stronger note, more bang and thoom than a crack.

He prayed to the spirits that it was Archangel himself here to help them.

Tovian had been hoping to join up with Archangel originally. Something about the man meshed with him. Someone who was willing to do something about the slavers and filth of Omega had him intrigued, and he wanted in. Also gave him the chance to at least do something helpful, make a difference.

Either way. He was thankful that they were at least getting their just rewards, despite that they may not have the best intentions. The hopes that whoever was fighting the Blood pack would at least be willing to set them free.

He did not want to be a slave, nor will he resign to being one. But his thinking was interrupted by a pleading voice of a vorcha directly by the entrance; the sound muffled by the thick metal.

"Wait, wait. I surrender! Don't kill me, I know many things… I'll tell you where Garm is hiding st—" A metal blade, wreathed with crackling blue energy, stabbed through the door as effortlessly as warm butter. It illuminated the darkness, bathing everything in a very dim blue hue. It slid back out and the crate went dark again, aside from a thin slit that let a sliver of light in.

" _That's for shooting at me. You xeno reject!"_ someone or something raged from the other side, in a guttural tongue, before shortly followed by the repeating dull thuds of something beating flesh. " _Emperor fraking damn you_ _for making me hunt you down!"_

Despite not being able to understand it, Tovian could tell that the person was annoyed. While everyone inside held their breaths, worried about their intentions, and thoroughly confused by their speech.

" _The area is clear, my Lord General. Though I think we may have been separated from the Magos."_ Another voice spoke up. " _I suggest we head back and regroup with the Ad mech. We might be heading into an ambush if we linger longer. The area has not been cleaned out yet"_

" _What? Hmm, that would be a good idea, Sergeant. However, you ever wonder something?"_

" _Wonder about what?"_

Tovian tried to piece together what he was hearing but was unable too. Yet he could see some of the Humans giving puzzled or confused looks in the dim lighting. He had to ask.

"You know what they're saying?" a man asked in confusion, hunkering beside Tovian. He wore a filth-crusted jumper, the smell hitting him hard as edged nearer. The mans face an even more pale complexion from the lack of sunlight and food.

"I think it's… Spanish?" someone answered in a questioning and unsure voice.

"No, It's Latin." A different person whispered.

"There was some Mandrin." Another followed up.

This led to confusion as Tovian tried to process this. A language that the humans were somewhat familiar with, yet alien at the same time. It was strange but he paused in his thoughts, as well as the others, when they heard something else.

Three loud knocks rang out, each giving a jolt to their heart.

" _What do you think is in here? Must be good if these 'Blood Pack' are so interested in protecting them?... and what do I own now?"_ the first voice said before another followed up.

" _You own, my lord?"_

" _Yes. The Magos made it clear earlier that if the plan went south. I, and us, would have full rights to everything here. He screwed up, so this is all ours, aka mine, and I want to see what's in here."_

" _Is that a wi—"_

" _You, Guardsmen, pop the latch and let me see,"_ The voice ordered. This was soon followed by the thin slit of light being covered, along with the rattle of the locks being tampered then smashed.

The doors opened noisily, blinding all inside.

Tovian rubbed his eyes, as did many of the others before they adjusted and looked at the open entrance. It was a Blue Sun with a rifle in his right hand. The human jumped back in surprise. Two similar figures took his place. Their weapons primed and aimed directly at them.

The humans in the front gasped. With what little energy to spare, they scrambled backwards in fright and pushed to the rear to avoid the sudden firing squad. A few gave up, hopes of freedom dashed, l there amidst the mob of struggling bodies. Tovian just stared back unflinching in the face of imminent death. He stood tall and looking directly at them.

He was a turian, he was a veteran… and he wasn't about to die like a coward.

" _Hold it!"_ A voice screamed out. The two men lowered their weapons in response as someone pushed his way through them and coming into full view

The screaming and struggling ground to a stop, eyes examining the new figure.

The first thing they saw was the golden, two-headed bird on the man's blue breastplate. He was human like the others, but he was as tall as a krogan. He was holding a sword of all things, and a pistol that screamed compensation, it was that big.

' _So… I own a bunch of hobos in a crate?"_ The figure surveyed them as he mumbled, before he pausing Tovian with a quirk of his head. " _And a… slurian I think they're called?... Yeah, definitely regretting making the deal now. I don't want slaves. Their too messy and feels wrong, too. "_

The man paused to clear his throat. "Who here wants to be free?" He asked in an accented English so heavy it was barely understandable to everyone. Not to mention the shock of actually being freed stunned them like a deer in the headlights.

Before anyone could reply, a large shadow grew overhead. Noticing this, the savior looked up quickly and paused, uttering "Shit," before being abruptly hurled backward by a nearby Sun. He rolled to a crouch, and that was the last thing Torvas saw before a shipping container flattened all the Blue Suns with him. While crushing the entrance and punching it closed. He and the slaves were once more wrought with darkness.

Torvas had a feeling he was insulted by the man… yet hoped he lived.

He really wanted to get out of here.

* * *

The last of the Blood Pack mob was swung off of Francis' axehead with abnormal strength. It tumbled into two pieces once the vorcha hit the floor. His blood mingled with his peers', further adding to the sheen of orange and red.

Francis had noticed that he had never once felt tired throughout this skirmish, even after slogging through dozens of bodies. Sure, a breath escaped him here and there, but it happened when he was about to swing hard at a target. It was an overlay of an old habit, a bit of his old self when he would bat at a baseball. Now, as a tech-priest, it became unnecessary for him to breath with his degree of respiratory augmentation.

It was a comforting sensation.

While the others ensured there were no survivors, he looked at his hands as if they were some unusual toys. The sensation of feel and grip, the bumps of every crevasse and groove.

It felt as if this was his original biological arm. Though he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy for Alston, given that he arrived here mostly intact.

' _Steel is rigid. Flesh is giving.'_

Francis blinked at the wild thought, at the pride and scorn of it. This makes the third time these… exclamations would come up, and he couldn't help but wonder if Alston's earlier question of, " _Do you ever have another version of you, inside your head? Like one that is trying to convi—ask you to do things and berate you?"_ had validity after all.

" _All hostiles terminated in the current area, Magos. Awaiting further orders,"_ A tech-thrall vocalized coldly as it jittered in front of the Magos. Its three-eyed purplish helmet stared at his leader like an emotionless puppy, standing in place while a trail of dark grey liquid leaked from minor puncture wounds.

" _Strip the bodies of their gear, put them in a pile, then burn them all."_

" _Thy will be done."_ the underling nodded then left Francis' side.

[Magos, one of these containers is not like the others.] This time it was Alfa.

Curiosity piqued (and not wanting to finish the verse), he starts his way over to the Sicarian. " _How so?"_

" _Whatever is inside seems dangerous. Two xenos have been attempting to access it. They have failed. However, the capsule has been reinforced numerous times, to an unusual degree, unlike any seen so far."_

The Magos Errant rounded the corner to find Alfa indeed standing before a suped-up shipping container, overlayed with numerous bolted metal sheets and more locks, both electronic and physical, on the door than a bank vault. Two vorcha corpses lay slumped against the door—one still smoking, while the other was nailed—, their backs to the Infiltrator.

" _Were they trying to open it?"_ Francis asked.

" _Yes, my Magos, that red rune,"_ Alfa pointed at the holographic lock. " _\- lit up when one of them booted up its cogitator."_

" _How strange…"_ Francis pondered, running his hands on the door. It was thick, almost three times as wide even before the additional plating, and larger than the others. Whoever or whatever was in here was most likely important and valuable to warrant this much-added security.

He decided to deal with this later. There was plenty of time afterward during the cleanup to examine things… at least that was supposed to be the plan. Until he ran his Omnispex over it and found an unusually large form inside it. A very large living form.

It was oddly familiar to him and he grew ever more curious.

" _Summon all nearby units to form a perimeter around the entrance of it. I want to know its contents."_

The order was swiftly followed and they positioned themselves in a crescent formation a small distance from the front. The two Kastelan robots aimed their stubbers, and the various tech-thralls raised their assorted weapons in preparation.

Francis stood near the center, behind the lines of thralls, and sent a silent order for two of them to approach and open the doors. Two moved forward, one of their limbs replaced with a large drill, and began the cut through the locks.

Coloured sparks flew in the air as the drill ate its way in.

* * *

He opened his eyes to the sound of screaming metal, and covering his ears with scarred, fat hands. Thick chains and manacles, that would fit large animals, constrained his movement. His stomach roared with hunger in response to his waking. A dull ache that demanded sustenance.

He would've torn them off a long time ago. He'd done it before, when those Blue people tricked him to go inside the steel box; not to mention when the red xenos forced chains on him once he got out. They rushed at him with chitters and grunts, stinging him with lightning sticks and needles, trying to restrain him.

He remembered fighting back with a fury, using broken chains as whips and fists as hammers, shattering bodies and crunching bones with ease.

He would show them his hatred at being confined. He hated the small space. It was too small for him. He didn't like small places.

He didn't like being prodded. He hated the stinging they caused. It stung.

He hated how those big lizards would laugh at him, standing back as he crushed the spiky xenos. He liked to crush them as they screamed and clawed at him, snapping them like chicken bones or tasty crunchy peas, but he didn't care.

They were puny and they were xenos.

Xenos were bad, that was what he was told by Him and he knew it was true. It was _Him_ after all.

He clenched his fist, and his knuckles cracked. He remembered that they took his favorite. Which _He_ personally gifted unto him, which automatically made it his favorite. The shame of losing it gnawed at him. He could've imagined the disappointment _He_ would have if the fact that he lost it was discovered.

He did not want to disappoint _Him._ It would tear him apart if it did.

So he made sure to break as many of them as he can to compensate. It should make _Him_ very happy as he was told by the chain of command, before they succeeded again at containing him once more.

The sound of grinding finally stopped, the metal glowing red from the heat. He stood up, head nearly hitting the ceiling, and he pulled hard on his bindings with bulging muscles. The chains snapped off and he stormed towards the door, feet pounding.

" _Nak punch good!"_ his voice reverberated in his parched throat.

* * *

As the last bar hit the ground, the driller tech-thrall backed off and from vented the heat from his tool, making way and allowing the other one clearance to grasp the handle and pull.

Then he got kissed with a fist. So fierce was the strike that the tech-thrall flew back to his comrades, face caved in from the sheer force and body sliding on the concrete. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Francis returned his optics to the door being shoved, no yanked open with large hands that crimped the hot metal frame like foil, revealing…

A captive ogryn. And judging from his large scowl, displaying misaligned and sharp teeth, a really pissed off captive ogryn. "Me hate blu red peepole!" he barked out in a harsh dialect of Low Gothic, smashing the lone tech-thrall beside him, and charging the purple line like a mad bull.

[Datasmith, intercept and incapacitate!] Francis ordered, halting his men from firing at will. He was surprised at this turn of events, but he was sure of one thing. There was no way this ogryn was his nor Alstons and led to questions. Questions that only this ogryn can answer… which was a stretch; ogryns were notable for having a lacking vocabulary.

The datasmith flicked his oversized hand in response and one of the Kastelans surged forward, meeting the meathead midway and causing the two to clash like football linemen with the thump of thick muscle slamming into metal. The Magos would've done it himself but A) you don't scrap with an ogryn, ever! B) He had a better option, hence the robot.

It soon proved to be an excellent decision as he witnessed the Kastelan be forced back a few steps, despite the ogryn being a few heads shorter. Both of them wrestled while the ogryn grunted and pushed harder. The ogryn cocked his head and headbutted the robot, who recoiled slightly. With this opening, the big lug started denting the torso of the robot with punch after punch after punch.

… Francis was so glad that he wasn't in the robot's shoes.

[Send the other robot!]

The other robot was sent out immediately to support its brother unit and slammed into the ogryn from the side; knocking and pinning him down. The ogryn grew incensed, struggling as he tried to clamber out of his awkward position, but the Kasteslan held firm.

" _Cease your struggling, ogryn. We are not your enemies here, but your savior. We are a part of the Imperium."_ Francis approached the pinned ogryn, halting in front of him while making the sign of the aquila with both hands and ensuring it was seen.

" _Youse not blu or red? Or xe'nose?"_ The ogryn's struggle lessened, his rage addled brain slowly clearing upon hearing a familiar tongue, the sight of the aquila and most noticeably the lack of any red or blue. " _And 'ur Ad Munch."_

" _We are the Adeptus Mechanicus, ogryn. Not the 'Ad Munch'."_ Ranger gruffed as she moved beside Francis. She had no reservation against abhumans, unless they proved to be a threat, but she still felt a tinge of disdain. They did serve a purpose in the Imperium as a cog, albeit perhaps slightly misshapen and impure, but a working cog nonetheless.

The ogryn blinked at her.

[Never use long words on an ogryn,] Alfa muttered. [They barely have enough brain cells to breathe.]

[Still, Ad Munch? We are not a breakfast supplement.]

[Either way, it is best to leave negotiations to Magos Nokia.] Alfa looked forward to watching the proceedings. Eager to see what would come next.

Francis ignored the two as they continued to ramble in small spurts of code. " _We are… 'Ad Munch'. Though It is surprising to find you here. You are not with the 4th Aquarian, are you? Why were you in the box?"_

" ' _ur Aqua-rian? I'd not Aqua-rian, Nak is ogryn under Commisaur 'lackson!"_ The Ogryn, now identified as Nak, answered back with a childish and proud smile. It was a bit off-putting considering the abhuman was currently being dogpiled and stared awkwardly at him from his position.

Francis took a gamble. He motioned for the robots to release Nak, allowing him to stand up and stretch. Francis took a closer examination of Nak; The abhuman's skin was scarred and grimy, pockmarked with small craters and jagged lines, an obvious regimental tattoo featuring a grinning skull wearing a peaked cap and crossbones.

His childish grin quickly morphed into a scowl. " _I wus tricked by blu men! They tell me food in crate, There wus no food!"_ He stomped his dirty boots on the ground, like a child with a fit, cracking the concrete. " _I'll smash them, they locked me in box!"_

" _And what about the red men? Why do they have you?"_ Francis asked.

" _Dey take me cuz I strong humie. Nak not humie, is ogryn. Red xeno is stupid. Think he's 'Orgryn', tells me he is 'Kro-gryn' and takes my gun!"_ At this, he moaned like a child due for scolding, " _He will be mad it's gone."_

That was somewhat distressing news, Imperial tech in the hands of xenos, though granted it was somewhat low-tech. Francis hoped it won't be reverse-engineered. An easy task with ogryn guns as they were kept stupidly simple for the embarrassingly simple abhumans.

" _Fret not, Nak, I can make you a new gun. Not here, though, I have not the tools."_ Francis reassured the distressed abhuman.

" _No, no. The Emperor gave me that ripper. I want to use that one, surr."_

Francis was about to attempt to convince Nak that the Emperor would provide him with a replacement, (which in all honesty was just a new one manufactured by himself on the Normandy's workshop after removing all the bugs), he was distracted by an incoming call.

"Hey! Boltjob, I need help! I'm being ambushed by the Ninja Turtle rejects from space! Yeah, I'm talking abou—" Alston was suddenly cut off, "Aughh! You little sh—" Line went dead again,

"You call that a headb—" and again. "That's a sweet loveta—" Before suddenly going silent for good.

Francis sighed at the taunting. Then a lightbulb turned on in his head as he looked over at Nak.

" _So… you have food?"_ Nak asked the Mechanicus members. " _I's not eaten in days and xe'nose taste funny. Funny bad, not funny haha."_

" _... I know someone who does. Follow me…. And don't kill him, please? He wears blue but serves the Emperor,"_ The Magos quickly backtracked to bail out his friend. Behind him were his troops and a now excited Nak, who had decided to lug the dead tech-thrall as an improv mace.

* * *

Gadark had met many humans in his stint here. He met fat ones, annoying ones, crazy ones and even a few who hired his services. Though he rarely dealt with the talkative and stubborn ones, seeing as they usually shut them up one way or another. However…

This human just. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

"A Ratling slaps har—Agh!" Grimdark headbutted the noisy human once more. The crunch of bone and glass was a welcome change from the constant dinging, as the man's head recoiled sharply backward. It was fortunate, too, his head started to hurt from just watching. Just what was the helmet made of? It was certainly tough.

"Muh no—" Crack! Grimdark slammed his head one more time. The human went still, either unconscious or dead. It didn't matter, Gadark's ears were safe.

"Don't kill the pyjack yet, you hollow-humped fool. We need him to give us answers and to tell us how to shut off those damn mechs," Mandark interrupted, placing his hand on Grimdark's shoulder. His voice filled with annoyance as he looked over the human, "We were lucky enough to get'em in the first place."

"He can't do it now," Grimdark snarked, dropping the limp body to the floor. The helmet was useless now, the face portion all but crushed with a cracked lens. While the chest plate bore a noticeable dent in the middle, caused by his shotgun at near point-blank. He couldn't help but admire the toughness of it. Especially once they punched through the strange barrier he had, a small globe of shimmer that constantly repealed their pellets back at them. It was tedious to get through but a krogan can be persistent.

Also not much in the way of armor could claim to survive a krogan-made gun, at least. The two younger brothers eyed the sword in the hands of Gadark who swished it around in the air while it crackled with energy.

Mandark had told Gadark that this was a rather unusual weapon; almost one of a kind to be honest, and similar in concept to an omni-blade. Something about it using unknown technologies, as he tested it on metal slicing and shredding through with ease, leaving little to the imagination of what would happen if it hit flesh. Though he had a more personal experience with it, having nearly lost his hand to it by the wild swings before Grimdark tackled the man and proceeded to smash his head open.

 _Tried_ to smash his head open.

"So, we find anything out about him?" Gadark demanded as he walked up to Mandark. "Besides being annoying. I've never seen him with Balak, so either he's new or expendable."

Mandark hunched over and grabbed the man's right arm, lifting it and toying with the locked omni-tool. It was an older, near-obsolete series of omni-tools from Aldrin labs, which meant that it was a simple affair to access; almost like taking credits from a volus. Though the Krogan quirked his eyes at the strange foreign runes and wordings etched on it, along with a faint smell of oil and smoke, before shrugging it off as nothing. He swept his own omni-tool over it, launching a few specialized programs to begin his work; ones he personally made for dealing with these kinds of situations.

He was positive that he could do it.

He tried to hack it, it flashed red in response. He tried again. It seemed to flash red even harder, pulsing as if furious at the repeated intrusion. Grimdark narrowed an eye in annoyance. He quickly made some quick modifications to the program, opting to try one last time, as he decided to dedicate every last drop of processing power to brute force his way through.

So it was quite a surprise to him when his firewall was hit in return. The fabrication modules powered up and began to spit molten materials; Mandark recoiled in a fury, grabbing his tool and burning his hands as he chucked it away. The tool soon melted into a goop of burnt plastic and metal.

"Damn! Didn't think his tool would be so encrypted!" Mandark flexed his injured hand and growled, "I don't suppose you have a spare lying around, otherwise we are dead in the wasteland."

Grimdark had one… though he would rather die than let anyone else know what was on it.

"We do it the fun way, then," Gadark interrupted, growing weary of this. "You know what to do Grimdark."

The krogan smiled, and reared his back for a rude awakening.

"Wait, you fool!" Grimdark paused midway as Mandark stopped him. "Slap him awake." Grimdark gave a grumble before giving a good slap on the helmet.

"Ow, shit! Why'd you wake me up so early…" The human grumbled, moving his head around like a drunk man on a hangover. "Damn heada—Emperor damn it, y'all were real… really ugly."

The triplets stared at him.

Gadark approached the man with his new weapon, the field deactivated. "Hold his hand out."

The man moved his gaze from the weapon, then to Gadark. "You know I'm open to talking?"

* * *

" _Nak, do not go ahead of us!"_ Francis cried out to the racing Ogryn, moving far into the distance ahead of him. "You do not even know where he is!"

Nak charged forward, his hand bearing the headless tech-thrall like a mace. " _Red xe'nose must die!"_

For the love of… Francis was glad his faction didn't deal with them when they were "raw". Talking to them was easy, to the point that words used with children proved sufficient, but fat chance of them heeding you when on the battlefield. Especially when they have a goal in mind and battle frenzy coursing in their blood. When as a servitor, they were supposedly an Emperor-send. A sheer mountain of metal and weapons on treads.

As if making his thoughts known, Ranger commented, [It's fortunate that we never deal with them like this.]

[Indeed it—] Francis was to agree with her before noticing something. " _Make a left, Nak!"_

Nak went right at the upcoming intersection before turning around at the Magos' instruction.

[Extremely fortunate.]

Francis could only sigh in concession at Ranger's words as they ran. Nak was the fastest and furthest of the Mechanicus formation, spurred on by either food or want of payback, or both. Francis, Ranger and Alfa chased after him, followed by the Robots and tech-thralls.

Shortly after Nak disappeared from view. Gunshots echoed throughout the building, followed by a primal roar from Nak, and the sounds of a melee.

Francis turned the last corner with Serpentina raised. He spotted Nak currently swinging his tech-thrall turned mace at two krogan. His body sported wounds, albeit minor ones thanks to his robust, thick skin. He swung the body sideways, launching it as a leg detached, and knocked one krogan to the floor before he grabbed the last one and gave a loud headbutt, causing it to do a great impression of a turtle, its head retracting into its own chest.

Nak grinned at the sheer violence, a child playing with a toy. So excited he was that he never noticed the other krogan rising, a knife in hand.

But Francis did, and quickly shot him dead.

"Back off!" another krogan further back, somewhat bigger and bearing an air of authority, barked loudly. He held a glowing blue sword to Alston's neck, Alston's own power sword. While his other hand was grasping tightly on his neck, as he used Alston as a barely standing human shield.

The krogan did a number on him: A smashed helmet, dented chest plate, and missing fingers (he noticed a bit of blood on the sword's blade). Oh, how he wanted to charge in and beat this xeno to a pulp, but that would guarantee Alston's demise. He frankly still needed him... and he was a friend.

"How do you shut them off!" the krogan demand again.

"Shut what off? The sword?" Alston asked with gritting teeth and a gasping voice, not liking his current role as a hostage and furious at the pain. "little fucking knob on the hi—"

"Your mechs! How do you shut them off?" Gadark insisted.

"Easy, you put the lime in the coconut—" Gadark pressed the button to turn on the swords power field, coming to life with a crackle, and Alston went wide-eyed; his words became more frantic. "—they're controlled by voice! You have to say the right password. It's a 'Slurian' thing, too lazy to do it manually."

Francis paused like a cut internet connection. Confusion rose at the nonsense his friend was spouting. _He must have a concussion_ , he thought. Since when did he have voice command?

"Salarian." Gadark corrected before inching the blade closer. The power field cut into Alston's armoured collar and neared his neck. "What are they?" he demanded.

"Turn off the sword and I'll tell you!" Gadark did as he withdrew it slightly, and the Lord General started to calm down. "The passwords… phew… the passwords are… ' _Wait for the signal, you sausage!'."_

Everyone blinked. Gadark lowered the sword hand in disbelief. "What?"

"It's from a rare human language," Alston tried to reassure the krogan, though it did not do much. "I chose it since no one here speaks it."

"Xeno filth, put down your weapon and step away from the Lord General," Francis ordered in a deliberately monotone voice, playing along. "You have twenty seconds to comply."

"You better say it," Alston suggested.

"Why don't you say it?" Gadark insisted as he tightened his grip. "I see no point in me doing so."

"Then they'll keep listening to _me_ ," Alston paused for a second, his sole exposed eye looked over at Francis. "And I'll have them kill you. You obviously don't want that to happen, _do you_?"

"Not if I kill you first. You forget who has the advantage here, human!"

"You'll still be dea—urk!" Alston choked as Gadark tightened his grasp.

"Alright, fine, I'll say it!... Uh…Say it again."

" ' _W-wait … for the signal… you sa-ssausage.'_ Gimme air," Alston wheezed in pain.

Taking a few seconds to process the words, and lamenting on the ridiculousness of it all. Gadark shouted out, " _Wait, you sausage!"_

Nothing happened.

Gadark bristled, growling, "Did I say that right?"

His question was answered in the form of every one of the Mechanicus lowering their weapons. Nak just stood there, his mind boggled as to why a xeno called him a 'sausage'. Francis felt embarrassed by this ploy, ordering his unit to stand down, but hoped that perhaps his friend had a plan.

"Yes, they're yours now." Alston easily hid his laughter in the wet coughs, before hinting loudly. "You're the prime user now. Test them out, give them an order."

Francis realized what Alston was implying, catching the obvious hint. Though the krogan seemed to have been oblivious, concentrating more on them then whatever his hostage babbled. The guy was an idiot, it would not and should not work.

Gadark smiled and let Alston go; the tall human gasped for air as he dropped to his hands and knees. Deciding to do a test, he pointed his sword at Nak. "Mechs, kill that human."

A torrent of high caliber slugs and energy beams slammed into Gadark, breaking his body to many steaming pieces.

Francis made his way towards the Lord General. Picking him up and inwardly grimacing at the man's missing fingers. " _I trust you are fine?"_ he quickly called for Private on the vox, seeing that medical attention was required. Thankfully he was quickly answered by the trooper and he dispatched some tech-thralls to escort him here quickly.

Alston did not reply right away, swaying for a moment, as the adrenaline rush started to flush out of his system. " _Yeah, I- I need some aspirin. My head's killing me, hand's feeling numb."_ He looked at his right hand. " _Oh. Can someone get my fingers? I think the red one ate it."_

Alfa turned his head over to the slurry. " _Your fingers are a lost cause."_

" _Oh."_ Alston decided to not push any further, or rather he couldn't think clearly enough to do so. He was about to inquire about the ogryn, and whether he can get some sleep now, before deciding to just lie down as exhaustion kicked in. "Can someone get my weapons, please? And get rid of my slaaaa…" He fell unconscious.

Francis shook his head solemnly before turning over to Nak. " _Can you carry him?"_

" _Yarp."_

* * *

A lone feminine figure stood on a distant rooftop, blending in the shadows, as she overlooked the location of her target with a pair of blocky binoculars. She leaned on the concrete railing by her elbows, her rifle beside her. It was a fine piece of custom weaponry and well maintained to a loving degree by her own hands, and much more compact than you'd expect.

After such an exhaustive search, and a few cases of specialized _persuasion_ , she found out her target was held in this warehouse. Though the last salarian took the fun right out of it, giving in at a mere touch.

Yet someone had beat her to the punch.

She spotted a mob of Blue Suns loitering nearby. This was not unusual. She had been briefed that the Blue Suns currently had a truce with the other private mercenary companies, though it would not last long from what was stated, and she agreed. What was strange was that a squad of them were currently at the heart of Blood Pack territory.

A rather far distance from where their scuffle with an 'Archangel', the sole reason for this alliance, was taking place.

It was even more unusual given the strange mechs in purple that stood with them, next to what she would assume to be the leader. A tall human donned in blue fanciful armor and armed with a sword and bulky handgun.

She had an assumption that perhaps they were there on business… until she saw a pair of skulls flying to the building; darting around it as if searching. Those were something that she had seen before, not too long ago. It piqued her interest and worry, focusing her attention on them. She did not recall someone else being assigned to this.

The assassin idly cracked her stiff neck.

Soon enough the skulls returned to the group. She examined the details on them as they hovered still, spying an engraved four but unable to spot the other before it retreated into the robes of the larger mech. The squad of mercs quickly gathered up against the rear door and breached into the building. A burst of light flashed moments after, followed shortly by the faint sounds of gunfire, screaming, and explosions.

It was an opportune moment for her.

While they were distracted with their 'allies'. She would infiltrate from a different entrance and find her target, kill him, then exfiltrate amidst the chaos. The Blood pack would most likely blame the Blue Suns for this, and they would be none the wiser.

But then, she heard whistling.

Looking around in befuddlement, then up, her jaw dropped. Two purple mechs fell from up high and crashed onto the roof. Then they started beating on it with massive fists, before falling again through the hole they made. Then an explosion went off at one of the walls, allowing more people inside, also colored purple.

One of the assassin's eyes began to twitch, trying to comprehend the ridiculousness of it all.

She needed to report this. There were too many variables, more than what she normally expected and was told to expect. Thankfully, she had managed to record this… spectacle and keyed in a series of numbers on her omni-tool before it started to ring.

A distorted voice answered her in a tired fashion. "Identification?"

"A5-8R-I," she gritted her teeth at the acronym from the safety of a voice call. It didn't take an idiot to realize they just turned the word asari into a series of numbers and letters.

She found it insulting, being an asari herself.

"Code phrase?" the voice asked impatiently.

"A moment in the abyss taints all but the purest," she inputted without hesitation.

"Code phrase accepted. Hold on, transferring you to your handler."

Another voice answered after a few seconds, not distorted like the last but clear. "Agent A5-8R-I, have you completed your assignment?"

"I have not. A complication has ari—"

"We have given you adequate time to complete the assignment, and enough resources on hand to ensure it is completed. State the reason for this _complication_ ," her handler demanded in a heavy and arrogant tone, clearly annoyed with her. "Or have you been usurping resources again?"

"He was sold to the Blood Pack and I had to track down every seller and informant, which takes time. It also doesn't help that before I could move in..." A5-8R-I sent the attached video files over, hoping to deviate from the question. She could hear the playback as he reviewed them before a quiet 'Oh frak' was ushered.

The sounds of battle from the warehouse died down to the occasional shot.

"I will have to send this above me. These men are not ours. This is out of my decision," he decided, hoping to force this issue on his superiors. A white lie; he had the authority to authorize an engagement, considering they were acting against _his_ interests. But, he was tentative. Especially, if there would be fallout from this. "One moment."

"Then what do I do now? Continue as planned?" A5-8R-I asked as she kept her eye at the distant war-torn building. The thing was barely standing now, given the series of holes and the new sky-light. She spotted something emerging from one of the entrances, recognizing them as the first group that went in, though their numbers were reduced drastically.

She focused in on them as they clambered out onto the street before she spotted her target: an extremely large human carrying the leader of this posse. Shock and awe would not begin to describe her face on seeing the giant man. The briefing she skimmed stated that the man was large. She assumed it was by human standards, not by elcor standards; he towered over the group as a mountain of muscle.

She followed them with her binoculars as best she could until they neared an alley, where a group of short men holding bulky rifles emerged. They met up with the first group, talking with one another.

Her target was just standing their, out it the open, with a dumb expression on his face.

 _Now's my chance!_

She hastily dropped the binoculars and snatched her rifle. Unfolding it and lining the scope onto the giant man's equally giant forehead. "I see the target. He's being escorted by the Blue Suns and I have a clear shot." Her finger moved inside the trigger guard.

"Don't attack! Hold it! Ceasefire! Orders came in!" The man frantically barked out.

"But sir, he's right there!" A5-8R-I protested, baffled. It had been such a slog tracking him down, and when she finally found him, she couldn't kill him.

"Cease your protests. Those above me have determined that they instead be followed. They have an interest in those rescuing that abhuman." He insisted, "Due to this unexpected recent development and that **he** has taken a personal interest in these rescuers. They have authorized me to allocate to you... _a blank cheque on resources and funding_." Her handler ground the grant like his teeth were being pulled without anesthetic.

A5-8R-I was overjoyed with this news. She can finally grab those slippers she wanted. "I am most honored by this task, and I assure you, I will use this cheque to the _best_ of my abilit—"

He hung up.

She really shouldn't tease the man. He was a bit neurotic about the rules, but still… slippers.

Sighing wistfully as she folded her weapon, she rose from her crouch to leave the area.

"Interesting talk ye 'ad there. Mind splainin' what you are doing up here?" a voice asked from behind her, suspicion obvious.

"Oh, you know, sightseeing. And the air is so much fresher the higher you go." She peeked over her shoulder to find a hairy midget in a blue-ish cloak, a pulsing omni-tool on his wrist, aiming a primitive gun at her head.

He gave her a scowl. "You din'nae need to worry about the air anymore. Smells like shite everywhere on this station. This'll help ye breathe much better."

"I'm surprised you can even lift that thing, you're so tiny," she fawned.

The midget smirked, "Well, big things come in small packages."

He shot her.

A violet light flashed over her head, rippling over the rest of her frame before settling into a full-body sheen. This caught her attacker off-guard, allowing A5-8R-I to rush him in two steps. The first step crossed the ten-foot gap. While the second step kneed him in the face as she jumped. She had expected him to be out cold as she glided over him, but the feeling of strong arms squeezing her left leg made her reassess his constitution.

"You'll have to do better than that ta bring Dalgoi down, ya witch!" He yelled. "Hit her, lads!"

With that announcement, two barks rang out. Seemed he wasn't alone. The first shot broke her **barrier** , allowing the next one to punch her personal shield, surprising her with how much percentage it took off. Down to 40! She grimaced at the number. While her shield wasn't close to what the Citadel's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance use, it was well worth its price in terms of quality and strength.

She had to leave, now. With the dexterity of a gymnast, she flipped from a prone position to a handstand, then somersaulted to her feet, catapulting a screaming Dalgoi off her leg. While he's frantically trying to keep a grip on the roof's ledge, A5-8R-I had already floated down to street level and made way to vacate the area, dodging sniper fire from one of the midgets by darting through the numerous alleys.

* * *

The ratling growled when he lost sight of her, lowering his gun. " _Blast! That tau's more slippery than an sand eel!"_

" _If ye're done staring at her arse, help me get the captain up! He looted one too many sweet rolls."_ The second one huffed and puffed.

" _If you all don't move your arse. I'll start pulling."_ Dalgoi threatened before he was lifted over the ledge. He was on his hands and knees, taking deep breaths in. " _Alright, lads, get on the vox and tell the rest of the squad to start tracking her. I'll tell the General and Magos what almost happened."_

The two ratlings gave an " _Aye!"_ before relaying the order to their respective squad and leaving Dalgoi to himself.

Dalgoi reset his nose with a pained grimace, then blew some blood out it before reaching for his vox-bead. That Tau had got him good, he'll give her that. He didn't even expect to find something like this, only stumbling across her by accident and a gut feeling. Though she seemed more eldar than tau with her warp powers and agility, if it weren't for her color.

He shook his head as doubts emerged about the possibility of them catching her, positive it was a her.

Witches had their methods of hiding beyond the reaches of mortal means. Not that mortal weapons wouldn't kill them, but given how catastrophic a single psyker can be, a bullet in the right place, at the right moment, can make a world of difference.

 _"Lord General, Magos Nokia, this is Captain Dalgoi. We've got a witch assassin aiming for the ogryn. My lads are already tracking her, but she's slippery, and she's a witch. I doubt our chances unless we get the drop on her, I rekkin."_

" _The Lord General is indisposed at the moment. Define witch,"_ the Magos inquired.

" _She's blue like a tau, moves like an Eldar and jumped off a four-story building with nary a crack. I would assume she has powers, considering that the witch ran at me while glowing blue."_

"… _Dalgoi, I am going to send you a file labeled 'Asari' to your omni-tool. What you described to me is what this assassin is. Each one must be regarded as a Theta-level psyker. In saying that, when combating them you must terminate them as swiftly as possible."_

Dalgoi waited a moment before the device on his arm vibrated. With hesitant hands as he tried to handle the unfamiliar device. Before managing to access the newly-sent file and seeing a few pictures, videos and documents.

" _Yeah. This looks like the witch, alright… Why do they all look the same though?"_

" _I do not know. But I forbid you from slaying all you come across 'just to be sure'. You do not need to cause unnecessary panic."_

' _Well, that certainly makes the job a wee bit harder.'_ Dalgoi complained inwardly _. "Alright, I got it."_ He said, making quick notes to ensure that his men receive the same files as well.

" _One final thing, the general and I are leaving this station soon, so we require you to set up camp here. I will leave the location and command of our remaining forces to you, Captain, but you need to maintain as low a profile as you can. We are out of our element in this sector. The more we learn about it the better."_

" _Affirmative,"_ Dalgoi confirmed before the Magos cut off the connection. " _Alright, boys. It turns out we'll be stuck on this emperor-forsaken rock for the time being. So in addition to looking for that witch, we need us a suitable hidey-hole… or we can just take the one that the Magos was kind enough to clean for all of us. I don't know what your all thinking about, but I'm not one to look down on someone doing me a favor. So those who are free, start bringing the loot from the other place. I'll get the coggies and enginseers they've left behind to make it a_ _ **real**_ _Imperial bastion, not a ramshackle grox hole."_ He announced to all the ratlings on his vox-bead. Voices of approval and orders filled the line, each squad beginning delegation of the various, tedious tasks required without complaint.

Dalgoi could feel a tear of pride course down his cheek as he overlooked the ruined warehouse in the distance. The sheer responsibilities and additional burdens now placed on him, the dangers of being away from Imperial support, and not to mention the generous amount of wealth and suckers here. This was paradise and he was gonna make it his… and the Lord General's of course; it was never good to exclude your boss after all. This was an Imperial venture and nothing has better insurance than a Lord General backing it.

His gut had a good feeling about the ad hoc promotion, and like what his pappy always said, " _Always trust your gut. It knows what's wrong… and when's dinner."_

* * *

 **AN:** So... it's been a while, huh? Guess some of you would've marked this novel as 'dropped'. However, I would like to explain to you all that I , and the **Co-an,** have been going through RL issues and were unable to do much work on this story. Turns out that working and having other projects tend to delay things. However, never fear. We bring a—

 **Co-an: —** new chapter, currently the biggest one yet.

 **AN:** I would also like to announce that we have a new Beta-reader/ editor/ something else, whose username is Jaznavav. He does not want to say anything, lest he incriminates himself.

 **Co-an** : I would like to say that while this chap was fun to create and was supposed to be relatively short, it ballooned absurdly, so much so that editing it was a slog. By slog, I mean it took over three months to check, recheck and triple check all 41 pages JUST to be sure that we did not contradict anything on the following/previous page, paragraph or sentence.

 **AN:** You'd be surprised at the sheer amount of errors we found. Besides us realizing that we can't write. That was a shock for the senses. Anyways, we've been hitting some rough spots in life. So, chances may be that another chapter will take a while. We thank you for your patience… and demand angrily patiently reviews. C'mon people, we need to know how badly we suck on writing or whether we can actually hold a sentence for once.

 **Co-an:** "Demand patiently reviews"... that don't sound right. What he meant to say was politely ask for reviews. The more we know of what you think, the better.

 **AN:** I'm Canadian. I can patiently demand anything I want. It's in my blood, alongside a high BAC. Anyways, now for reviews.

 **Limbo:** I'm not sure. It would depend if we believe we can do it or not.

 **Forgemaster:** We'll think about it. But, we're not that familiar with those chapters, besides the Salamanders.


	15. Debriefing

**Please leave a review, we need it to survive.**

 **Also, have a merry Christmas and happy holidays. We come bearing a small chapter to prove we are alive, and in no way, shape or form, are we currently engaged in a blood feud over writing.**

* * *

Shepard tried in vain to stem the growing headache by massaging her eyes. "I fail to see how someone so… slow, would be able to send out a distress signal. And how could he, he was almost naked when you found him."

"The phrase 'Keep It Stupidly Simple' is a necessity when devising hardware for Nak's kind."

Shepard reached for her cup of tea, then leaned back on her white leather couch, taking a sip. Nak had that vibe about him, yes. Especially since they had to coax him to get inside.

Magos Nokia turned and headed for the door. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to check if the Machine Spirits of your friend's new implant find agreement with his xeno flesh." He didn't need to, really. From what he knew, high-quality prosthetics never failed in their integration in Warhammer. He just wanted to leave quickly.

"Stay. I'm not done yet." Shepard didn't appreciate the derisive, xenophobic undertone of his voice. Sure, him having spare body parts from who knows where was a gift horse, but he didn't have to be so snippy about the whole ordeal.

Magos Nokia turned and headed back to her.

"I still have questions. For starters, what is Nak? Why is he so big?

"Nak is what is called an ogryn. They originate from planets with high gravity similar to that of the elcor homeworld."

"Ogryn? Is that one of the species in your Imperium?" Shepard asked. She was baffled at the man when he first showed up, even more with his immense musculature and height. There was bodybuilding, professional bodybuilding, _krogan_ bodybuilding, and then there was Nak.

"No." The Magos replied without hesitation.

"So he's an old species?"

"Yes, to a degree."

Shepard took another sip. "Care to explain?"

"Ogryns are…" Francis paused for effect, "abhumans."

Shepard blinked twice. "That's it?"

"I am afraid so. They exist on a few worlds in the Imperium. Their societies are akin to primitive tribes, barely eking out an existence on their icy, barren homes. They are nonetheless a part of the Imperium and its military."

"... That's impossible. Humanity hasn't been around that long for evolution to make… _him_."

"I say to you, Nak is human in the barest sense of the word. His genetics roots can attest to this and you are welcome to examine him. Though I would highly suggest you gain his consent or get Alston to order him beforehand. You would _not_ want to deal with an irritated ogryn."

"Noted," Shepard agreed. It was obvious what would happen if someone like Nak got out of hand. "One last thing before you leave. What can you tell me about this?" She activated her onmi-tool and pulled up a picture, showing it to the Magos.

It was the gun Garm used. Although there were changes to it, this was most likely Nak's gun. He didn't have to look for it after all.

The Magos stepped closer to get a better view. "… Where did you find this?" he asked, turning his gaze from the picture to Shepard.

"The Blood Pack leader had it, waved it around like a trophy. Said he got from a 'big human'. I think it's safe to say this belongs to Nak."

"You are. This is called a Ripper, a shotgun made purely for ogryns. He was inconsolable about it being gone, complained quite a bit when we found him."

"The krogan liked it a lot, but he had to slim it down to use it."

Though the ripper gun was a crude design, it was still imperial technology. The fact that it was defiled by unsanctified and xeno hands caused a pang of anger within Francis. "Such an… unorthodox modification is frowned upon in the Adeptus Mechanicus. What became of the krogan that wielded this?"

Shepard frowned, "I ripped him to shreds with this after he took Garrus' arm off."

"Good. Both the gun's Machine Spirit and your acquaintance have been requited."

"Machine Spirit?"

"A minuscule extension of the Motive-force, one of the trinities that comprises of the Omminisah. It is rather difficult to fully explain to one not versed in the mechanical chants and arts. In layman terms, it is a spirit—a soul, in a sense—that inhabits all manufactured technologies, both simple or advanced. And would help or hinder its function according to its current deposition, its emotions and feelings. Hence it is one of our jobs, as Tech-priests, to attend and placate them.

Shepherd pondered the explanation. "Doesn't that sound like Artificial Int—"

"I strongly recommend that you refrain from using that term in the presence of any Imperials, mainly Mechanicus, for your sake. I am fine with it, so is Alston, but that should be the limit. You infuriate the Cult Mechanicus to violence with that insinuation. Worlds have burned for much less by them."

"I remember, the Men of Iron. How similar are they to the Geth, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I do not know enough about the Geth to provide an adequate comparison." He looked toward the door. "Is there anything else you wish to ask?"

Shepard refilled her cup. "No, I think that'll be it for now—Wait. What were you planning to do with Nak?"

The Magos took a second to respond. "When Alston has recovered enough, he and I shall deliberate with you about it. Chances are that we will have to keep him with us unless you are willing to head back to drop him off where you discovered us. But you will be dismissing a valuable asset if you do."

"Valuable, you say?"

"Nak's kind are renowned to be incredibly strong and enviously resistant. Once properly outfitted, he will be unstoppable."

Shepard sipped her tea as she thought it over. "While I believe you, we are going to need extra supplies just to feed him. I can assume he eats a lot?" Being a biotic herself, she had to eat quite a bit to recover from using her powers, being more taxing on the body than normal physical exertion. From her time alongside Wrex, a krogan had a similar intake on a daily basis. Considering that Nak was bigger and possibly heavier than two krogan, it left little to imagine how much he ate.

"Yes he does. But, if I may inquire, are you thinking to pay out of pocket to feed Nak? I had thought this was a Cerberus operation."

Shepard was about to argue when she remembered her own half-joke about buying Garrus an expensive bionic arm. This will cost them a lot more. "You're right. Welcome aboard, Nak." She then added sternly, "But he's staying with you. And I expect a medical examination from Chakwas about him."

"I have no issue with that." She could hear a devious smile in his voice as he said, "Though I cannot speak for Alston and his retinue."

"Good, housing situation is settled. We should be reaching the mass relay to jump to the Citadel soon. I have business to attend to in addition to introducing you to the Council, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour." Shepard motioned to the door before opening her nearby laptop and setting it on her lap, signalling that the Magos was dismissed.

The man remained where he stood.

"I was not aware we deserved to meet with your council. I thought we agreed to assist you with the Collectors, not lead negotiations. Diplomacy is not within our duties," the Magos said.

Shepherd couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the question, looking up from her screen to him. "I thought that was what the Lord General was here for. You had mentioned he was the more diplomatic between the two of you. And it would also make sense for you to meet those in charge behind me."

"He is. But he is currently indisposed. So we will have to reschedule this meeting until he is well, or until our people are available to send a delegation, which would be quite some time."

"Could you not take his place?" Shepard sipped her tea, eyes on the Magos.

The Magos paused once more, and from the near-silent hum of electronics and the lack of speech or subtle movement. Shepard could tell that he was stuck in thought over something.

"It is not possible, we each represent a different aspect of a whole. I can only speak for my side, not his." His voice went more serious, threatening even. "It would be most prudent to wait for the both of us to be present so your leaders shall have a _formal_ response."

Shepard's eyes narrowed at the sudden hostility. "... Very well. But would you consider attending a small, _informal_ meeting? If only to make an acquaintance?" She hoped to at least form some in-roads to pave a path later on. Though given the xenophobia, it would be a slightly bumpy road.

"I will not repeat myself," The Magos resolved. Addendum: an incredibly bumpy road.

"What about with just the human councillor, Anderson? I know him well and he would be interested in what you have to say."

"My answer stands."

Shepard sighed internally. "Alright, fine. But I would at least like to notify them of your existence. That is not up for debate."

"What proceeds from there will be left to the Ommnisiah's Will." He accepted. "If there is nothing else to discuss…"

Shepard waved him off. "I'll let you know what they say. You and Alston, provided he's well enough, are free to leave the ship when we hit port. Just… don't try and shoot up a warehouse again. This place is not Omega."

The Magos exited the room, turning to face her one last time. "Do not worry. I will make sure to notify you before doing so."

The doors closed.

She hoped he was joking.

* * *

"How the hell does he eat that much?" a crewmember said, a small crowd beside him. The man was looking at the growing mound of MRE wrappers at Nak's feet, as well as the second large pot of stew the giant had.

"How hungry would _you_ be if you were in a box for Emperor knows how long? I'm more amazed he hasn't eaten his arms yet." Private countered, his attention focused on opening the MRE's faster than Nak could shove them in his mouth. A race he was losing.

"I for one don't care. As long as someone likes my cooking." Gardner voiced. The man was head deep in a cabinet, searching for something to satisfy the giant's craving. Nak had already devoured the crew's dinner for the day, alongside the crate of MRE's he had laying around. He had to get _creative._

"Yeah but, we need to eat, too."

"There's still some left—Wait, never mind, he ate the last box. Maybe there's some in storage," Gardner suggested, "I wouldn't want to get between him and his meal, if you get my drift."

Nak grabbed an unopened MRE in front of Private and shoved it into his gaping mouth.

" _No, don't eat that! Spit it out! You're supposed to wait for me to give you the food!"_ Private panicked, dashing to the ogryn with the authority of a lion tamer as he opened the big lug's maw.

" _But—"_ Nak tried to complain with a full mouth, spraying Private as he neared with partially eaten food chunks.

" _No buts, spit!"_ Private insisted. He did not want the ogryn to die on his watch, especially considering that the Magos, and possibly Lord Alston, would want to speak with him.

" _Pegh…"_ Nak did as told, looking like a kicked puppy. The partially-chewed pouch landed in front of him, leaking its contents on the metal floor. A mixture of beef stew, saliva and compacted mashed potatoes. And the heatpack that had just been activated.

A look of disgust formed on the viewers' faces, and bafflement at the man's ability to devour an entire MRE or his inability to know not to eat the bag as well.

" _Nak still a bit hungry."_ Nak complained, slouching over in disappointment. Despite sitting cross-legged on the ground, Nak still towered over everyone in the room. He looked around for something else to chew on, but found nothing.

Private reached into one of the pockets on his harness and pulled out his ration bar; he opened it and handed the white, soft brick over to Nak, who gave a toothy smile in return. " _Eat this."_

" _Yarp."_ He shoved the contents into his mouth, chewing it to a pulp and swallowed. " _I taste nothing but mush."_

" _Be happy it's not a CS bar,"_ Private deadpanned. One of the many perks of being an officer's aide, better food.

Given that the taste of Combat Sustenance bars—better known as 'Corpse Starch' to those in the Guard—was nauseating or almost unpalatable to anyone with a sense of taste, nothing tasted better than something in that regard.

" _Okay."_

"Ah, Nak. You are here," Francis commented after he turned the corner from exiting the elevator. He moved towards the two, "I see that he has been eating his fill?"

"I'm out of food. Which is a first for me," Gardner admitted, scratching his head as he pulled himself out of the cabinet. "Only time I never had leftovers or anything. I like this guy, even though I can't understand him. Could use another shower." his nose wrinkled a bit.

Francis nodded at Gardner's remark. Cleanliness was almost unheard of to ogryns and anathema to a few. Not to mention that finding an omni-tool for him will be an adventure by itself. Francis may have to learn how to make one, and have it as durable as can be as well as having the user interface so simple that even a toddler could use it. The tech-priest in him smiled at the challenge, except at the last part. It felt degrading.

He turned to the ogryn. " _Nak, you will be staying with us for now. And, I have a gift for you."_

" _A gift?"_ Nak turned his head towards Francis, confusion morphing into one of surprise. He liked gifts, especially when they were good gifts. Like the one the Emperor gave him, he liked that gun. It was his bestie. It blew up 'hair-techs' and 'xe'nose' into pieces really good.

" _Yes. Close your eyes."_

He did.

Francis walked back to the elevator, grabbed the ripper gun, and trudged back to Nak, ignoring the stares. "Open."

Nak opened his eyes, seeing the Magos and then spotted the large battered, gore-soaked weapon. He gave a toothy smile and scrambled to the Magos. With large arms as thick as tree trunks, he engulfed the metal man in a bear hug and squeezed. " _You found it?"_ Metal creaked and the huggee groaned from the pain. Warnings about structural integrity flashed across the Magos' HUD.

" _I have. Now unhand me, you fool!"_ the Magos yelled out, his vocalized voice muffled by the mountain of flesh.

The ogryn released him, and Francis immediately took stock of his damages, finding one mechadendrite inoperable along with minor denting throughout his torso, mainly his back shell. How funny, this was probably the most damage his frame had taken since coming into Mass Effect.

The same can't be said for Alston, though.

" ' _hey did sumting to you!_ " Nak wailed, cradling the gun in his arms as he scrutinized and spoke to it. He grimaced, " _It's not the 'ight color, and it's smaller. Wot those xe'nose have dun to youse?"_ He looked over at the Magos. " _You can fix him, 'ight? your the Ad Munch. Please? The Emperah won't like 'his."_ Nak spoke loudly and clasped his two over-sized hands together as he begged. The abhuman nearly reaching Nokias' head despite being on his knees.

Francis did not know what to say to prevent an ogryn tantrum.

Replacing it would be safer, though he didn't know how to do it. He didn't have the materials, or means, on hand to manufacture one. He also wasn't sure he was able to pull parts out from inside his robes, like what he did for those prosthetics. It did puzzle him how he achieved that in the first place.

' _Wait.'_ Francis realized something. If he was able to do this blatant disregard for the laws of mass and physics, wouldn't that mean Alston should be able to do something similar?

Considering that he had the same power also, it was a plausible theory and worth a check. If it didn't work out, he could always cannibalize it and make do with the local stuff.

" _I will try my best—No more hugs!_ _If you will excuse me, I need to see how my patients are doing."_ With that, the tech-priest made way for the medbay. " _Private, when Nak is finished eating, escort him to our room."_

Private nodded in reply. Nak fell quiet, content to cuddle his returned weapon.

* * *

Alston didn't know who to be more livid at. Francis for his stupid plan or the Lord General currently hunting him through the foggy city streets. The sprained ankle didn't help, neither did the debris almost blockading the streets.

"I'm disappointed in you," the Lord General called out, a bit far but didn't sound like he was in a hurry. "Why must you obey the whim of your friend, when you both have equal power?"

Alston didn't respond to avoid giving himself away. But the man's words ebbed at him.

It may have been his decision to help Francis out, but it was also Francis who planned the whole thing.

"You had hundreds of points available to you, enough for a small company of Guardsmen, yet you summon four squads of ratlings, a squad of guardsman—probably the wisest thing you've done, and three enginseers. That's not a company, it's light patrol at best. And for what, to remain hidden from xenos? To crawl underneath them, whilst they lord and rule on false thrones?"

"We don't know where we are," Alston argued.

"But he does! Didn't he tell you? That this universe is a bastardized game? Think, if he knows all about this place… then what do we _not_ know?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Alston said. "I know Francis, and I trust him, he wouldn't try and get me killed."

"You hear me, but you do not listen. He is your friend, yes, and is mine, but _your_ Francis is leading you around like a carrot on a stick."

"Then why are you doubting him? He, clearly, knows more about this place, so I'll leave what to do to him. And when he needs me, I'll be there to help him like always."

"Like at the warehouse? What did it cost you? Two fingers? What about next time, would it cost you an arm? A Leg? Perhaps your life?"

"Good thing he's a tech-priest." Alston felt exasperated. He didn't want to keep talking, lest he give away his location, and he could feel the words wearing him away. So the chance to retort, to break the Lord General's rhythm, was too good to pass.

A crack rang out. A nearby stone pillar got a chunk blown out of it. Alston flinched and brought his las-pistol up, aiming wildly for the source.

" _You_ are now a commissioned officer of the Astra Militarum, the hammer of the God Emperor! Cease your prattling, you are just like a admin-scribe. I am merely _trying to teach_ you what little I can, with what few moments we have. One cannot cram decades, if not centuries, of knowledge in mere _days,_ let alone hours a night _._ "

"I don't think shooting me is train—"

" _Shut up."_ The Lord General fired again. This time the bolt round hit Alston square in the face.

After a minute of silence, the Lord General walked up to then stood over the headless and splayed out Alston. The arteries in his neck pumped out sprays of blood with each heartbeat. The muscles twitched as the nerves went through the last of their signals.

The look of tired hatred on the double's face couldn't be more clear.

"Until we meet again, heed these words _wisely_ : Trust. No one."

* * *

 **An:** And that is it for Chap 15. It was quite a troublesome one for us, especially since work has been harassing the both of us. Which made us decide to just cut it short. Not to mention that life is cruel.

 **Co-An** : Initially this was a few scenes longer, but the scenes in question dragged on too much so we scrapped them.

 **An:** A lot of scrapping. This was supposed to be three times the girth.

 **Seabo76**

 **An:** Thanks for the review, and yes, a new player has been revealed somewhat.

 **Ilireanwri**

 **An:** thanks for the like. It's our first story, so we do expect a lot of rough edges. For now, it will only be Imperial based, though it may, or may not, change in the future. I also cannot answer much, considering that it may be spoilers. But what I can say is that some of your questions should be answered soon.

 **biolaj1998**

 **An:** We used a dice roll on a chart we have to decide on what kind of characters we would use- the higher the number, the lower the rank so to say. Which 100 would be equal to a civilian and a 1 be akin to a primarch. So… it would not be out of bounds for you to roll Canoness, Saint or an inquisitor. To answer your question bluntly, yes. You may have a chance at super angry space nun with big guns.

 **Monkeylikespie**

 **An:** Sadly, the Co-An hated "and that's how my helmet broke." We decided to compromise on having a headache instead.

 **Meeyaaargh3412**

 **An:** And the Emperor said, "Let him have more."

Janne Rolfe Jalandoni

 **An:** Never fear, the chapter is here.

 **FORGEMaster**

 **An** : Ah, you misunderstood. We know about the Blood angels (I have about 600 dollars worth of them lying in a closet.) I just meant that we weren't confident about writing them well, though we have tried a few test chapters. The black dragons are an interesting chapter, I have read a few stories and novels based on them. But I don't think I can do them justice. We don't write that well.

 **Co-An** : Being a fan-favorite does not guarantee they will be used. Even though I agree with **An's** hesitance, such a Space Marine Chapter does not suit the needs of this story. Ever heard of Chekov's Gun? Including would both add too much to our plate as well as make the story less cohesive. As of yet this story has two groups, (Shepard and the Players) and the upcoming antagonist. Simple, easy, _focused._

 **AN:** Focus... that's a big word for you **Co-an**. **  
**

**Human Dragon**

 **An and Co-An:** Thanks.

 **Grudgematch**

 **An:** Prayers have been answered. Ogryn eating food scene given.


End file.
